


The Wizard's Nephew

by Kat_o_nine_Tails



Series: DPH [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Families of Choice, Gen, He's not good at it at first, Kid Fic, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, No character bashing, Parseltongue, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, and Severus is having none of his bullshit anyway, but like, but not evil dumbledore, he gets better tho, plot-heavy Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_o_nine_Tails/pseuds/Kat_o_nine_Tails
Summary: It was perhaps because of their shared pain that Severus did it. Or perhaps because the boy had her eyes. Or for no reason at all, save that he might still, despite everything, be in possession of a heart.On All Hallow’s Eve, Harry Potter died in Godric’s Hollow, hailed as a hero, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord.Two weeks later, Severus Snape signed the adoption papers for his orphaned nephew, Herodion Prince.





	1. 1981: The Hand that Robs the Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, buckle up for the ride, this is the first tiny piece of a frankly YUUUUGE story I've been plotting in my head for the last eight years, and I only now started writing it. Fair warning, there are no rules to this, I am in charge here, and I will stuff this thing with every headcanon, trope, cliche and Tumblr prompt I like, so help me God. 
> 
> There will be no updating schedule. I don't know how long it will be. I don't know the number of chapters. I am taking a page out of Lemony Snicket's book. 
> 
> Yes, I am insane. Enter at your own risk.

_This couldn’t be happening._

It was a mantra Severus Snape repeated to himself, half blind with panic, racing up the stairs to Godric’s Hollow, tripping over the last step that wasn’t there.

_This couldn’t be happening._

He kept repeating it to himself even as he saw the still-warm corpse of James Potter, glasses askew and eyes unseeing, lying in the doorway like he was a puppet with its strings cut.

_This couldn’t be happening._

_But it was._

A mantra three times repeated did not mean it was true. The truth did not care for the whims and wishes of a mortal man. A wizard or not, all the power Severus spent years gathering meant absolutely nothing in the face of the scene that greeted him when he entered the nursery.

There she was.

It was a feeling not unlike trying to step on that last stair only to realize he was on flat ground. His entire worldview shifted and he was scrambling and failing to adjust.

And just like on that last stair, he tripped and fell on his knees, next to the warm body of the woman he loved. He felt a curious sensation of his fingers going numb, like his bleeding heart was drawing the blood back from them in an effort to keep beating. 

Lily Evans. Lily Potter. A Lily by any different name, yet dead just the same.

Severus wondered if the world outside was ending as well, or if it was just his own. 

He was clutching her in his arms before he fully realized he was doing it. Beautiful, warm Lily, so bright the flower ought to have been named after her instead of the other way around. The one ray of sunshine in his cruel, dark world. The Light he wished more than anything was his, yet was self-aware enough to know that the Dark of his own soul would have suffocated her.

That Light he knew could never be his, yet the threat of it extinguishing had been enough to win against his fear of the Dark Lord. It was enough to send him to his former headmaster, knowing the man cared not for Severus’ life but still willing to hand it over to him in exchange for Lily’s.

And it was all for nothing. She was dead. The Dark Lord had won.

_It was over._

In his grief it took him far longer than he would ever admit to notice that the wails he was hearing weren’t solely his own.

Slowly, as if he were a boy afraid of the dark, he turned around towards the crib and the child inside that Lily had given her life protecting. And in it, Severus saw the impossible.

_The boy was alive._

For a few seconds Severus was frozen in disbelief. Harry Potter, the babe Voldemort had been so adamant to kill, was alive. How? His parents were dead, so the Dark Lord must have been here. But why would he kill them and leave the boy alive when the whole purpose of coming was to kill him?

Something was wrong.

Severus gently laid Lily back down and staggered towards the boy. He was crying from all the commotion the adults were causing but he quieted momentarily when Severus loomed over his crib. He had blood on his forehead, Severus noticed, dripping into his eye from a strangely lightning-shaped wound. 

_No… That’s not lightning_ , Severus thought with a horrifying realization as he recognised the spell that required that wand movement. He had watched Voldemort himself demonstrating it to his newly minted Death Eaters, the quick, jagged lines matching the erratic movements of the Dark Lord’s wand as he cast the Killing Curse on a random Muggle he’d caught for just that occasion. Severus remembered how the man had begged, then collapsed dead in a flash of light, no trace of violence left on him.

The Killing Curse was supposed to leave no marks on its victims… Unless, apparently, it _rebound._

That meant… The Dark Lord had cast the curse on Harry Potter, and it rebound _back at him._ It meant that Voldemort had been hit with the Killing Curse. It meant Voldemort was _dead_.

Feeling like he was going to faint from all the shocks that just kept happening tonight Severus held onto the edge of the crib and turned towards the dark shape on the floor which he had previously dismissed as a discarded cloak. It was a cloak, yes, but last he checked the Potters were not the kind of people to fill their cloaks with burnt ash.

He recognised that cloak. He had seen Voldemort putting on that exact cloak scant hours ago, when he had begged him to spare the life of a woman Severus loved. Voldemort had agreed, if only Lily agreed to step aside and give up the one life Voldemort was required he take.

Severus, knowing full well that Lily would never step aside if she ever found herself in between a murderer and her child, had collared the first Death Eater that could tell him where the Dark Lord had gone and then raced after him.

But he was too late. 

The prophecy was fulfilled. Not the way Voldemort had wanted it to, but fulfilled nonetheless. Albus Dumbledore would be satisfied. The war would be declared over. The Light had won.

So where did that leave Severus, who had just lost everything he had been fighting that war for?

“Mama?” He was interrupted from his melancholy thoughts by a high wobbly voice, struggling to force words through tears.

“Mama!” Harry Potter called again and flailed a tiny hand through the bars towards his mother’s corpse. He turned to Severus, begging him with his eyes to help. “Mama!”

He understood the boy’s grief, but he didn’t know how to help him. He couldn’t. For all the power Severus had been told he had, that would one day make him great, he could not bring back the one person both he and this boy loved. It was perhaps because of their shared pain that Severus did it. Or perhaps because the boy had her eyes. Or for no reason at all, save that he might still, despite everything, be in possession of a heart.

Severus reached into the crib and hefted the baby onto his hip, just as Narcissa had shown him before handing him Draco. Harry wasn’t very happy to have a stranger handling him, he made that abundantly clear, and he wasted no time in leaning sideways abruptly, almost falling out of Severus’ arms. “Mama!”

“Your mum can’t hold you now,” Severus said as gently as he could, deliberately not looking at Lily’s corpse, “She’s… Very tired. She needs to sleep for a while.”

He wasn’t quite sure how much the boy could comprehend, but he apparently did understand what Severus was telling him. Harry turned to Severus with his teary eyes, exactly like Lily’s, and without a shred of remorse grabbed a fistful of Severus’ hair and yanked on it hard enough that the spy let out a pained hiss.

“I see you’re already turning out to be like your father,” Severus grumbled as he tried in vain to free the hair young Potter gleefully held hostage. 

At least he wasn’t crying anymore. Severus would take his silver linings where he could get them.

There was also the problem of _what to bloody well do now_? Just because the Dark Lord was dead it didn’t mean that the war would end overnight. The Death Eaters would be like rats abandoning a sinking ship the moment the news of their Lord’s death reached them. There would be witch hunts, quite literally.

Suddenly Severus went cold. He was holding Voldemort’s vanquisher in his arms. The entire Wizarding World would be up in arms about the young Potter. There would be Dark wizards and witches howling for his blood, Bellatrix chief among them. Without his parents to protect him, it was very likely the boy would not survive to see Christmas.

This was Lily’s son. He couldn’t let that happen. If it was the last thing he ever did, if he couldn’t save Lily, then he could at least save someone whose life she valued above even her own.

And then Severus was hit with an idea. 

The Wizarding World would be looking for Harry Potter, the boy who essentially saved them from the Dark. They would vie for him like starving wolves after a piece of meat. 

Nobody would be looking for an ordinary baby. But for that to happen, Harry Potter had to die. 

It wasn’t even that hard to do, in retrospect. He took the baby blanket from the crib and pressed the edge of it to Harry’s forehead, letting it absorb the blood and retain rather conspicuous stains. Then, with a baby still securely on his arm, he grabbed a handful of Voldemort’s ashes and left them in a pile on the mattress next to the bloodied blanket.

Let the Aurors make of that what they will.

It was almost perfect, even in hindsight when Severus was in possession of a clearer mind, and it would have probably had the intended effect if it hadn’t been for Rubeus Hagrid barging in on him at the last second. 

Luckily for Severus, a man of Hagrid’s stature did not approach quietly. He had ample time to cast a sleeping charm on the boy and pull his Death Eater mask over his face. By the time Hagrid entered the nursery, nearly screaming for James and Lily, Severus had both Harry and his face well-hidden with his mask and cloak.

And thus, when Hagrid ran into the nursery, all he saw was Lily’s body dead on the floor, an empty crib and a Death Eater waving an ebony wand a second before the CRACK of Apparition signalled their disappearance.

It was a scene that would haunt Hagrid’s nightmares for years to come, seared into his mind as clearly as his own name. 

And it was that story, that sealed Sirius Black’s fate.


	2. 1981: A Village to Raise a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus desperately needs help, but he would be damned if he asks for it. Luckily for everyone involved, he isn't given a choice.

It took Severus all of twelve hours to admit he was laughably underqualified to be taking care of anyone, much less a baby.

For a start, he was not quite prepared for the amount of attention and care a 15-month-old required. Thanks to Narcissa and Lucius he knew the basics of taking care of a baby, like what to feed him and how to change a diaper, but the boy was old enough to run and young enough to pay no attention to where he was going. 

That resulted in a rather spectacular bruise on his forehead to complement his scar and no less than three hours of wailing that would make a banshee green with envy. It was a rather startling wakeup call that if he wanted to have a child in his house, he would actually have to baby-proof it.

Severus had no idea how to baby-proof _anything_ , much less an entire house.

Still, he used some of his considerable brain power and dug around it a bit for some common sense. There wasn’t much of it lying around in the first place, but he scraped together enough of it to tell him that he should probably clean the house first.

After the first time the boy ran full-tilt into a wall and decided to check if there were dead people in the backyard by attempting to raise them with his screaming, Severus was rather reluctant to put him down again. So he hefted the boy onto his hip again and entertained him for almost the entire morning flinging various cleaning and moving spells at… everything. He was actually quite glad that the only person to see the amount of filth in the house was too young to tattle on him.

He was in the process of trying to figure out how to turn his childhood bedroom into something more suitable for a baby when the problem of a dirty diaper presented itself.

Severus was a Potions Master, and as such he had handled ingredients and potions that smelled bad enough to make his eyes water and wish his nose wasn’t so damn sensitive. They were worse than anything an ordinary human baby managed to produce, he told himself as he cast _Evanesco_ on the dirty diaper and transfigured a clean towel into another one. 

There were worse things than this. Barely. 

The next thing to come to Severus’ attention was that he had no actual baby equipment. A baby needed diapers, for a start, and more clothes than a single footie pyjama, and a crib, and toys, and baby food, and _Merlin he needed paperwork._

That one hit him over the head like a bludger out for blood.

He was sure that by now, the Aurors had found and processed the site they found in Godric’s Hollow but the Daily Prophet didn’t get delivered to a Muggle neighbourhood like Spinner’s End and Severus couldn’t exactly _leave._ Thus he had no way of knowing just what conclusions the Ministry came to. Probably that Harry Potter was dead, a conclusion that presented a problem for Severus since Harry Potter wasn’t, in fact, dead.

The solution was simple, at least in theory: say the baby was his, give him a new name, and if anybody asked Severus was drunk two years ago and got the baby delivered on his doorstep with a letter.

In practice, it wouldn’t quite work. He was a former Death Eater, it was rather unlikely he would tumble between the sheets with a Muggle or Muggleborn woman, and no Pureblood woman would lower herself to sleep with a poor Halfblood, Voldemort’s favour or no. If he did want to go along with that story, how a former spy ended up with a baby from an unknown mother, it would put him under far too much scrutiny from both sides.

Not to mention that he would be doing Harry no favours by trying to pass him off as a Snape, much less a bastard one. Severus had been a poor, no-name Halfblood in Hogwarts, and it was a fate he didn’t want on any child, especially not Lily’s son.

So no, Harry would not be Severus Snape’s son.

A nephew, on the other hand…

It was certainly food for thought as Severus downed another Calming Draught, changed into Muggle clothes and carried Harry with him to the grocery store. He needed to feed the little beast and the only things he had in the house were stale bread, tea and a few bottles of elven wine Lucius and Narcissa insisted on plying him with. He was rather touched, really, since he knew presents were pretty much the only way the Malfoys knew how to show affection but it was of little use to him in this situation.

On the other hand, wine wasn’t the only present Malfoys were wont to gift him with. Whenever Severus managed to swallow his pride long enough to ask for a favour the Malfoys were happy enough to oblige, and favours were their specialty. Lucius had enough pull within the Ministry to have Severus adopt Harry quietly and have everything legalised before anyone even noticed that there was a baby in Severus’ arms.

There was a very good chance that Lucius would agree to do it, but he would ask questions. Questions Severus didn’t have a safe answer to. The first would probably be: whose baby was it? And the second: if the baby is not yours, is he Pureblood? If Severus managed to find a plausible way to say yes to the latter question it would certainly go a long way to endearing Harry to the Malfoys. 

Severus had a sinking feeling they would both need all the support they could get.

Harry was rather quiet on the way to the store, eagerly swivelling his head around and trying to catch as much of the scenery as he could. Severus vaguely wondered if the boy even remembered the last time he’d been outside. Hopefully the good behaviour would last during the entire outing.

“That?” Harry curiously pointed at the bridge they were about to cross.

“That is a bridge. It’s a way to walk over a river.” Severus explained.

“Bree-ge,” Harry tried, then scrunched his little brows when it didn’t come out right. “Brige.”

“Bridge,” Severus patiently repeated.

“Bridge,” finally getting it right the boy smiled in delight. “Bridge!”

“Indeed, and we’re going to cross it.”

“Cwoss?”

“Walk over it. If there wasn’t a bridge, we would fall into the river.”

“Ree-voor.”

“River.”

“Ree-ver.”

“That is correct.”

“Cowect!” The boy squealed in delight. He had some trouble saying the letter R consistently but Severus attributed that to him not having a full set of teeth. When did babies finish teething anyway? Draco had started growing teeth when he was around seven months old, but Severus’ visits had dramatically dropped in frequency after that. The boy had an impressive pair of lungs on him and Severus wasn’t about to stick around to appreciate them. 

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Severus decided a trip to the library would be prudent. 

“You?” Harry asked curiously. 

“Me?” 

“Whoo?” Harry looked at him with those haunting eyes patiently, as if Severus was the one who couldn’t understand simple instructions. 

Perhaps he indeed did not, because it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize he had never told the brat his name.

“I am Severus.” 

Harry blinked at him at that, scrunched his brow and tilted his head as if he was deep in thought. “Sssssssev.” It sounded more like a beastly hiss than a name.

“Se-ve-rus.”

“Sssssev.” Harry hissed again.

“We’ll work on that.” Severus just sighed.

“First day babysitting?”

Severus spun around abruptly, just barely stopping himself in time from pulling out his wand and hexing the Muggle woman.

“Oh, sorry I gave you a fright,” she smiled apologetically, her voice holding the faint traces of a Scottish accent that reminded him of Professor McGonagall. She was only a few inches shorter than Severus, with long dark hair curling at the ends and a plump figure. “I couldn’t help but notice we came from the same direction and thought I’d introduce myself to a neighbour. Isobel Fisher.”

“Severus Snape.” He shook her hand, trying to remember if he’d seen her before. “You live on Spinner’s End as well?”

“We do now. My mother’s getting on in years and I decided I wanted to be close to take care of her so we moved in with her some months ago.”

Well that would explain why Severus hadn’t seen her before. He hadn’t made it a habit of visiting his childhood home since his damnable father died. Still, his paranoia wouldn’t let him leave well enough alone. “We?”

She stepped to the side to reveal a red haired toddler clutching her trouser leg. The little girl chanced a look at Severus and promptly decided he was too big and too scary to face, so she scampered behind her mother again.

“That’s my Alyssa,” she explained with a fond smile. “What’s yours called?”

“Harry.” Severus promptly replied, then privately cursed himself out for giving the boy’s real name. At least he didn’t give his full name. Severus was reasonably certain she was just a nosey Muggle woman but something about her made Severus suspicious. 

“He’s cute. How’d he get that shiner?” She pointed at Harry’s bruised forehead with a raised eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t yet learned about the corporeality of walls. You might have heard his displeasure earlier today when he confirmed he couldn’t pass through them.” Severus answered a touch reprimindingly with a look at the brat. He had the gall to look perfectly innocent.

Isobel just laughed. “Oh yeah, sorry to say the hyperactive phase isn’t gonna be over anytime soon. Mine’s shy now but the moment we get home she’ll be tearing the place down around our ears.”

Severus winced. Well there went his hopes and dreams out the window.

“So, first day babysitting?” She repeated her earlier question.

“Indeed. What gave it away?” Severus asked a touch sarcastically. Isobel raised an eyebrow at him.

“The fact that you just now told him your name.”

“Ah, yes. I was… Rather suddenly put in charge of his care.” Isobel apparently hear the underlying sadness he couldn’t force out of his voice and frowned in concern.

“Did something happen to his parents?”

“They-” Severus swallowed and held onto Harry a bit tighter, “They passed away yesterday. Car crash.” He blurted out the first thing he could think of. He would have ordinarily thought of a better lie, or thought of something to make her leave them alone, but he felt like his entire body was one exposed nerve. He had to drink no less than three Calming Draughts since coming home just so he could stop himself from howling in grief. He wasn’t fit for company, but functioning in impossible circumstances was what Severus Snape did best.

Isobel’s entire demeanour changed. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Are you family?”

“His mother was my- cousin,” he told her, vaguely remembering that he actually did have a cousin, at least from his mother’s side. “I was the only one who could take him.”

Isobel’s face darkened at that, but it didn’t seem aimed at him. “Let me guess: the social worker just handed you a baby as you were getting out of the morgue.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m a paediatric nurse. Unfortunately, yours is not a unique case. Social services are horribly understaffed right now and they’re just passing orphans to the closest family members with little warning. It’s not right, and it’s not even legal, but they’re dealing with the worst as it comes and shunting cases like yours to be dealt with at a later date. There’s been a rather gruesome string of murders lately and they have their hands full.”

That was… A remarkably good cover story, Severus thought. 

“That is... not far off from what happened,” he told her, “I was… Rather estranged from my cousin before this. Getting the call was… quite a shock.”

“I can imagine,” Isobel grimaced in sympathy, “Alright, I could tell just from looking at you that you need help, and we’re neighbours. Be honest with me son, are you at all prepared to take care of him?”

Severus stared at her.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

And with those words Severus found himself in a completely different store from the one he was intending to visit, holding a shopping basket filled with baby supplies he couldn’t even name in one hand and a gigantic packaging of diapers in the other. Isobel was blathering on about everything she was putting in his basket but Severus was listening to her with only half an ear.

Next to them, bumping into their legs and nearly tripping them no less than five times, were Alyssa and Harry. The redheaded toddler had the baby by the hand and was leading him around the store, happily displaying her knowledge of the names of various items. Harry was listening to her with rapt attention, occasionally repeating the words she spoke. Miraculously, she managed to zip around everywhere without leaving her mother’s sight, and the death grip she had on Harry ensured he stayed close as well, and away from any walls.

A redheaded girl with a name of a flower leading around a dark haired Halfblood boy. Severus wondered, briefly, painfully, if history was trying to repeat itself.

He felt sick. He needed a Calming Draught. He wanted to cuss and fling curses at everything around him. He thought he would collapse right then and there and just _scream_ until his throat was incapable of producing sound.

“Son, are you alright?” Isobel noticed he was standing in the middle of the aisle with a grave expression on his face and a faint tremble in his hand. “I know it seems overwhelming right now, but it will get easier. We’re just about done here anyway. Come on, the register is that way.”

Clear, simple instructions. Orders, phrased politely. Severus followed them automatically, not needing to process the words to obey. It was a talent that had served him well in the Dark Lord’s service.

Severus wasn’t sure how much the lot of it cost but he was pretty sure he would have been horrified if he’d been in his right mind. Apparently babies were ridiculously expensive. Luckily he’d taken the money he got from the settlement after his father’s death so he had enough. 

“Don’t worry, this will last you a bit.” Isobel told him when they were laden with bags and walking home. “And I kept all of Alyssa’s old baby clothes, I think they’re still in a box somewhere in the attic. You just throw them in the wash and they’ll do you well.”

Severus nodded absently. Harry was back on his hip, happily tugging on his hair and babbling nonsense interspersed with English in his ear. Alyssa was walking next to him with a little hand fisted in his trouser leg, having apparently gotten over her fear of big, scary men in black. Not exactly a good thing to stop being afraid of if you’re a little girl but nevertheless, Severus shortened his steps to match her pace.

“Come on son, sit down.” Isobel commanded once she’d let herself in Severus’ house. “Just tell me where you keep the kettle and I’ll make tea.”

Severus just vaguely gestured towards the kitchen. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. Harry and Alyssa were somewhere in the sitting room, exploring and probably getting into trouble but Severus honestly didn’t have the energy to stop them.

“Here you go. I didn’t find milk in your fridge but I found the sugar.” Isobel put a cup in front of him and another on the other side of the tiny kitchen table. She sat down in the only other chair and took a fortifying sip, rather obviously trying to steel herself for the conversation she was about to start.

Concealing his lips with the rim of the cup, Severus looked her squarely in the eye and cast _Legillimens_.

The first thing he saw, her most surface thoughts, was himself. He looked like a miserable twenty-something boy to her, tired and sad and lost. She noticed him when she first heard his voice on the bridge, and he could tell she thought it pleasant. But then she heard the actual conversation and saw the bruise taking up nearly half of the baby boy’s forehead, along with a nasty gash, and suspected foul play. That he’d kidnapped the boy and was going to do God only knew what to him. 

She approached him full of suspicion and prepared for the worst, but her view shifted quickly. Severus just barely stopped his grimace when he saw himself through her eyes. Merlin, he looked pathetic. No wonder she all but bullied him into accepting help. 

“Severus?” He gently extracted himself from her mind at the sound of her voice. She was looking at him in concern, unaware of Severus’ trespassing.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Isobel sighed, “I wanted to ask you if there was anyone else that could take Harry in.”

“No.” Severus replied resolutely. “My father passed away shortly before you came here. My mother even earlier.”

“You said he was your cousin. Did his mother have any siblings?”

“Ms. Fisher, when I said I was the only one of our family left, I meant it.” A hard edge had crept into Severus’ tone. The only way Petunia would ever be left in charge of any magical child was over his dead body.

“Yes, that’s what I was afraid of,” Isobel took no offense at the tone, thankfully. “Severus, just how old are you?”

“Twenty-one, but I fail to see how that is relevant.”

“Do you have a job?”

“Not… Right now.” Severus resolutely did not squirm. “My former boss was… In the other car.”

Isobel blinked at him, trying to decide whether that tangent was worth questioning.

“Right,” she took another sip of her tea, “I’ll be frank with you Severus: I’m not sure you’re ready, emotionally or otherwise, to raise a child. Especially after just losing someone you care about.”

This time Severus didn’t even try to cover up his flinch. He knew that. His own father was an abusive bastard and his mother, no matter how much she tried, was far from an ideal parent. She could hardly do anything, after her own father had disowned her. His childhood was an absolute mess, but that was the least of his worries.

He was a former Death Eater. He was a former spy. There was a very real possibility that someone would come knocking at his door with less than benevolent intentions at any time. Lucius knew his address at Spinner’s End, in case of emergencies. If he had at any point told it to Bellatrix the madwoman might come after him when she found out about his betrayal.

He was not looking forward to putting up wards strong enough to keep her away from the house.

“Maybe you’re right,” Severus allowed, “but I don’t see what other options are there.”

Isobel hesitated and fiddled with the handle of her cup. “Well… I hesitate to suggest adoption, but-”

“No.” 

“Severus-”

“Absolutely not.” If Severus squeezed his cup any harder it might just break. With deliberate care he set it back down. “I’m not going to hand him to some _stranger_. I’d rather manage on my own.”

“It’s not just Harry I’m worrying about.” Isobel said, “Taking care of a child is a lot of hard work, and you’re young and alone. You just told me you have next to no support network and you’re obviously grieving. I can’t imagine this ending well.”

“Few things in my life ended well. Yet I’m still here. And I’ll do my best to do right by him.” To do right by Lily’s child, to do better. He would keep her son alive even if it killed him.

He owed her that much.

Isobel must have seen the determination on his face because she sighed in resignation and downed the rest of her tea like she was wishing it was a shot of whiskey. If Severus hadn’t poured out all of his father’s numerous bottles of rotgut, he would have been doing the same.

But that was a path he couldn’t afford to even look at now.

“Well, you still need help,” she affirmed, apparently having come to a decision, “And you know what they say: it takes a village to raise a child. In our case, we’ll have to settle for a neighbourhood.”

Whatever Severus might have said in response to that was lost in a crash that sounded from the sitting room, followed by twin shrieks.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He said in the end, and then they were both running to make sure their children were still in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I'm a Gravity Falls fan and thus everything has a hidden meaning. Everything. Especially OC names. I spent an absolutely ridiculous amount of time picking them out. If you figure them out it gives you clues to future character traits and story arcs.
> 
> Hey, if J.K. can have a werewolf named Werewolf McWerewolf II...


	3. 1981: Auld Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One does not simply know how to be a good parent. It’s a learning curve, and Severus is about to discover just how steep it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brief mention of suicidal ideation.

All things considered, Severus really should have seen the tantrum coming.

After he’d managed to usher the Fishers out the door, though not before being forced to memorise their address, he had righted the upturned sofa and started sorting through their shopping haul. He still had no idea what half the items were, and thus had even less of an idea what to do with them or where to put them. Why were these things even needed? Humans had been managing to raise children before they learned how to wield magic, much less invented - Severus flipped the packaging to read the instructions - chew toys? Harry was not a dog, why would he need chew toys?!

Either Isobel knew something he didn’t or she was mocking him, and neither option sat well with Severus.

In the end he resigned himself to having to ask for help when she visited again. Then he gathered all the plastic bags up and carried them up to his old room along with Harry. It would be the brat’s room now, he supposed. He set the bags down next to the nightstand and took out his wand.

Luckily the bed had a wooden frame, unlike the metal one of his parents’ bed. It was old and the wood polish had started flaking even back when he had been its owner, but it was still solid and would hold the shape he transfigured it into.

The mattress was a different story altogether. The stuffing and the sponge cushioning the bedsprings had gone almost completely flat and Severus could reliably tell the position of each and every metal coil with his spine. Harry would be better off if he just vanished the entire thing and conjured a new mattress until he could buy a proper one. 

He was cut out of his musings by little arms wrapping around his leg. He looked down to see Lily’s eyes drooping with fatigue and a huge yawn splitting the tiny face of her son.

“Mam’?” Harry mumbled into his trousers and Severus froze.

Right. Less than a day ago he’d told Harry that his mum couldn’t hold him because she was sleeping. It had calmed Harry down enough for Severus to take him away, and the excitement of new surroundings and new people had kept him occupied for far longer than Severus had initially hoped for.

But now the boy was tired, and he wanted his mother, who he assumed had finally finished her nap.

Severus couldn’t keep lying to him forever, but he wasn’t ready to admit the truth to _himself_ , much less Harry.

“Your mum is not here,” Severus admitted as he picked the boy up, “She couldn’t come with us.”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Dadee?”

“He’s not here either.” 

“Pa’foot?” 

“...No.” Severus had no idea what that word even meant.

“Moonee?”

“Not here either.” Merlin, just how many people did Lily and Potter let into their supposedly secret hideout? True, it was under Fidelius but that only prevented guests from telling the location of their hiding place, not what actually went on in there.

“Woomy?” Harry appeared to be getting frustrated with his lack of familiar adults. If the names he was butchering even belonged to people. For all Severus knew he was asking for his favourite plush toys.

“I’m afraid it’s just us here,” Severus eventually sighed, “So you’ll have to deal with me, Merlin help us both.”

And then Harry got mad. His brow scrunched with frustration and he grabbed Severus’ hair _again_ and pulled on it like he wanted to tear it out. “Mama!”

“I told you, your mother isn’t here.” Severus hissed as he tried to extricate his hair from the death grip.

“MAMA!!!” Harry shrieked straight into Severus’ ear, “DADEEEE!!!”

“That’s it,” Severus growled and took out his wand. What he was about to do might not strictly be moral or ethical but Severus hadn’t slept in nearly two days and hadn’t eaten since he found the wretched brat, he had neither patience nor energy to be dealing with this.

“ _Silencio,_ ” Severus cast directly at Harry’s throat. The screams abruptly stopped, though it took the boy several seconds to realise he couldn’t hear his own voice. He looked at Severus in bewilderment at his sudden muteness.

“You can scream all you want now, but I will not have Muggles knocking on my door because you’re throwing a tantrum.” Severus all but growled at him.

Which was a mistake.

Little Harry’s face crumpled in sadness and a little bit of fear and he opened his mouth to silently wail his heartbreak, pain and frustrations. Even though he couldn’t hear anything Severus could quite clearly see it in his face and he had never felt more like a monster than then, watching fat tears rolling down the boy’s bruised face.

“I’m going to Hell,” Severus groaned when he still couldn’t bring himself to undo the silencing spell. 

He rubbed Harry’s back in some vain attempt to make them both feel better. He failed, of course, but he still continued doing it as he went down into the cellar, where he had started assembling his potions lab. 

It was rather bare-bone, with only five cauldrons and the glass jars of ingredients stashed in wooden wine racks, next to the actual wine bottles. When brewing potions and poisons for the Dark Lord he’d always used the laboratory in the Lestrange Manor, where a deceased Lestrange ancestor had assembled the lab equipment that could rival that of Licorus Black, famous for his cruel but brilliant experiments that had elevated the Black family status to near legendary. 

Severus was probably the only one who knew what half of the equipment in the Lestrange Lab even was, much less how it was used. Rodolphus had allowed him free reign, being well familiar with Severus’ proficiency at potions. Severus wouldn’t go so far as to say Rodolphus had been in any way fond of him, certainly not as much as Lucius Malfoy, but he was far more gracious towards him than the average Pureblood. And if he had ever noticed that Severus had been smuggling out equipment and ingredients, he never mentioned it. 

Bellatrix was another story altogether, treating him as more of a stray crup her brother-in-law had brought home that she didn’t particularly like but wasn’t allowed to kick, but that was neither here nor there.

Severus dug around the shelves until he found a phial of Wiggenweld Potion and a tin of Star Grass Salve. He knew either would work on bruises but hopefully at least one of them would do something about the damnable lightning-shaped cut. He didn’t know the protocol for injuries caused by curses that weren’t even supposed to leave injuries, so a bit of trial and error would be needed. Too bad he didn’t have any Essence of Dittany around. 

By then Harry had stopped his silent screams and was only letting out heaving sobs. His head lolled against Severus’ shoulder, soaking his turtleneck sweater with tears and snot. He was the picture of misery and suffering.

Severus could relate.

“Come on, look at me for a moment,” Severus urged Harry, needing access to the boy’s forehead but Harry was stubbornly hiding his face in Severus’ shoulder.

Deciding he had made the poor brat miserable enough for one day Severus just took the potion and the salve with him and left them on the kitchen counter. He could try again tomorrow. 

He took a clean towel and wet it in the bathroom sink, then carefully wiped away the snot and tears from young Potter’s face. Harry wasn’t happy about that either and tried to push Severus away. It didn’t quite work though, and Severus managed to get him relatively clean.

Severus chanced a look in the mirror above the sink; what a miserable pair they made, both obviously tired and, quite frankly, pathetic. Isobel had been right, they needed all the help they could get.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Severus rubbed his eyes, “Hopefully things will make more sense after a nap.”

It was probably a vain hope, but Severus was too tired to care.

He was also too tired to cast anything more complicated than a _Finite Incantatem_ at Harry, much less go along with his previous plans of conjuring a mattress for the newly transfigured crib. 

“Looks like you’re sleeping with me tonight,” Severus told Harry as he walked them both towards his parents’ bedroom. The bed frame was metal and creaky but the mattress had actually been replaced within this decade so it was a far better option.

When he set Harry down onto the bed the boy just tilted over and was out like a light. Well, it certainly made things easier. Severus stripped down to his pants and pulled on one of his father’s old shirts. Toby had been taller and broader than his son so it hung on Severus’ frame, making him look even more waifish than he already did.

He was too tired to care. He pulled Harry into the crook of his arm, hit the pillow and passed out.

* * *

He was woken hours later by horrible, terrifyingly familiar hissing.

_“Ssssssssevrussssss.”_

“My Lord!” Severus shot up in a panic, momentarily confused when he didn’t see the handsome yet bone-chillingly terrifying face of Lord Voldemort.

“Sssev?”

Instead there was only the Potter brat, looking at him in as much concern as a baby could manage. Severus dragged a hand over his face, trying to force his pulse to slow down through sheer force of will.

Voldemort was dead. He saw it with his own eyes. The boy sitting next to him was proof of that.

“I’m awake,” he said, “What do you want?”

“Hungwy,” the boy said despondently.

Right, Severus hadn’t fed him yet despite it being the whole point of their impromptu shopping trip. He cast a quick _Tempus_ and nearly cursed when he saw it was evening already. 

Isobel was right. He wasn’t cut out for this.

“Sev?”

“Come on,” he didn’t even bother changing clothes, just hauled the brat into his arms and carried him down. Isobel had put the jars of baby food in the fridge, hopefully it wasn’t anything that actually required preparation.

For the lack of a high chair he sat the boy in his lap as he fed him mashed carrots straight from the jar. Harry finished it in record time, though that might be partially because half the jar ended up on his onesie. Severus wasn’t quite awake enough to be mad at the loss of food so he just cast a _Scourgify_ at the boy. Harry laughed in delight as the bubbles tickled him clean.

“Well that sound is certainly enough to ease my nerves.”

Severus’ head shot up in surprise. He barely managed to hide his wand in time before Isobel entered the kitchen, this time toddlerless.

“How did you get in here?” 

“You forgot to lock the door, I just let myself in.” Isobel shrugged and lifted the box she was holding higher, “I brought some of Alyssa’s old clothes. Don’t worry, most of them are neutral enough for a boy, she wasn’t very fond of pink when she was younger. I blame my ex-husband for that but what can you do.”

There were so many things for Severus to process in that sentence he didn’t know where to start. It was a rather moot point anyway, as Isobel had already put the box down on the sofa and started sorting through them.

“I already went and washed them since I don’t know if you have a washing machine. There, this one’s nice, what do you think?” She pulled out a onesie that was approximately Harry’s size and held it up for Severus to look at. 

It was mint green, with a chubby cartoon snake in darker green stitching holding a baby rattle in its tail. The letters underneath it proclaimed it a ‘Rattlesnake’.

It was so ridiculous it was almost enough to make Severus laugh all on its own. But the thought of James Potter’s son wearing it had Severus bursting out in peals of unexpected laughter so hard he nearly dropped the aforementioned son.

“I have a strange feeling I’m missing a joke here,” Isobel confessed with a bemused expression on her face. She checked the onesie to make sure the terrible pun was the only thing on it, “but I suppose I can’t complain if it made you laugh.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect,” Severus actually grinned in delight, “I can just imagine the look on his father’s face when he sees Harry in-”

He stopped abruptly, stricken. He said _when_. As if James Potter was still alive, and Severus had been temporarily saddled with babysitting duty while the man was on an Auror mission. As if he and Lily had made up and she’d actually accepted Severus back into her life enough to entrust him with her son while her husband grumbled in the background. 

Like he could look James Potter in the eye, smirkingly tell him in no uncertain terms it would be a just revenge, and then go back to laughing at him with Lily.

It was an idle fantasy Severus hadn’t allowed himself to entertain twice. But once was enough. To imagine that Lily would want Severus to be her friend again, want it enough to make her husband behave. To make Severus want to put his old grievances behind him instead of letting them fester. That perhaps if James Potter had grown up into someone Lily could love, Severus could at least learn to tolerate him for Lily’s sake. Anything for Lily’s sake.

But that would never happen now. They were _gone_.

“Oh dear,” Isobel dropped the onesie back on the sofa and pulled the other chair closer to Severus, “It just hit you, didn’t it? That they’re not coming back.”

Severus nodded woodenly. Harry was squirming in his lap in distress and Severus managed to register that he was holding him too tight. He loosened his grip but didn’t fully let go.

“May I?” Isobel gestured towards Harry and Severus’ hold tightened again momentarily before he relinquished the baby to the older woman. Isobel took Harry under his armpits and cooed at him.

“Hello handsome boy, what a great big shiner you have,” Harry grinned at the baby-talk and reached out to grab Isobel’s hair, which she expertly avoided, “Your Uncle wouldn’t happen to have some cream to put on that?”

Severus just gestured to the tin with the Star Grass Salve. Isobel took it and raised an eyebrow at the odd green tint to it. She gave it a sniff, shrugged, then started gently applying it to Harry’s forehead. 

It would take an hour or so for the salve to clear the bruising but for the moment it eased the boy’s pain. Harry even closed his eyes and held still as Isobel’s finger smeared the funny smelling grease over his wound. 

“This must be some good analgesic salve,” Isobel remarked, “Whenever I have to salve Alyssa’s cuts she howls like I’m trying to kill her.”

“...I can make some more for you,” Severus said, “You’ve done a lot for us, I owe you.”

“Well I won’t say no if you’re offering, but you don’t owe me anything, I was just being a good neighbour. Tell you what,” Isobel cut in before Severus could open his mouth, “You’re out of your depth now but I can tell you’re a quick learner. You can pay me back by babysitting Alyssa every now and then. She already likes Harry and Spinner’s End isn’t exactly full of children.”

She had a point. Severus supposed it would be good for the brat to have at least one friend. It was perhaps the only thing that had made Severus’ own childhood bearable. But how in the world was he supposed to handle two children by himself when he couldn’t handle one?

“Severus, when was the last time you changed his diaper?” Isobel asked.

“Sometime this morning,” Severus said.

Isobel’s eyebrows shot up, her lips twisted in a grimace and Severus knew he’d fucked up again.

“Right,” Isobel said, “Well follow me, might as well show you how to change a diaper. And take that salve with you, he might have a rash by now.”

Chastened, Severus stood up. It was only when Isobel’s eyebrows shot up again that he realised he was only in his pants. He turned red and subtly tried to pull down the hem of his shirt, but that only served to expose his collarbones and deepen his blush.

Isobel, bless her, turned her attention solely on Harry. “You go put on some trousers son, I’ll entertain the little tyke. But don’t put on anything you wouldn’t mind gardening in, nappy changing can get messy real quick, you might need to change yourself next. Isn’t that right Harry?”

Harry babbled happily while Severus begged the Earth to swallow him.

* * *

For the first two days Severus was grateful that, apparently, the wizarding world had completely forgotten about him in the light of the Potters’ deaths. 

But after five days of absolutely nothing, not so much as an owl on his window, he started to worry. Not many people knew his address at Spinner’s End, but he would have expected either Lucius or Dumbledore to come knocking at _some_ point.

Apparently not. And it set Severus’ teeth on edge. An ignorant spy was a dead spy after all.

Finally, a week after one of the most monumental deaths in Wizarding history, a silvery Phoenix flew into Severus’ kitchen just as he was trying to feed the Potter brat his lunch.

“Severus,” the Phoenix said in Dumbledore’s voice, “if you are still alive to receive this message, I will come find you. We have much to discuss.” Its task done, it flew away to report to its caster.

Severus didn’t waste time. He put a little beanie hat and a little jacket on Harry and marched straight to Isobel’s door. He told her he got a call from the police about the supposed car accident Harry’s parents had been in, he needed to urgently leave for a few hours. Isobel nodded and shooed him away, promising to look after Harry until he returned, and if she got called away to the hospital, her mother was home and she could watch the wee ones for a bit.

Severus went back to the house and immediately started hiding any and all traces of another person living with him. He needed to make it seem like he had spent the last week wallowing in his misery, which wasn’t that far off the truth, really. It just had to seem like he did it without baby toys around.

For good measure, he ran down to the cellar and grabbed a bottle of the Malfoys’ wine, spilled a bit of it on his shirt and downed a large gulp, just enough to make his breath smell alcoholic but not enough to weaken his Occlumeny shields.

Which was how Dumbledore found him when he bloody well just apparated into his house, frantically waving his wand around and with an opened bottle in one hand. Well, not exactly the impression he wanted to leave but he could work with it.

“I see you cleaned.” Dumbledore remarked casually, looking around the sitting room, trying to give Severus time to pull himself together.

“What do you want?” Severus asked.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, never a good sign. In the end the old Headmaster sighed and took a seat in Severus’ armchair. “My boy, how much do you know?”

“About what?” Severus bit out, “The fact that, even though I literally _begged_ you to protect her Lily is dead, along with Potter and their brat?”

“And the rest?”

“The rest?” Severus frowned, “I’ve been here all week, what else is there?”

“I think you better sit down,” Dumbledore told him gently.

Severus sat suspiciously. 

“Haven’t you wondered how Voldemort got into the house that night?” Straight to the point. It must be truly horrendous when Dumbledore chose not to beat around the bush.

“I assume he tortured the information out of whoever you assigned them as Secret Keeper.”

“I’m afraid not,” Dumbledore looked down. For once the usual twinkle in the old man’s eye was absent, and he managed to seem infinitely older than he actually was, “They were the ones to choose the secret keeper, and James chose his oldest friend.”

“Black,” Severus positively spat out the name. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, “But he gave up the information willingly.”

“You mean-?”

“Yes. Sirius Black betrayed his friends, and sided with Voldemort.”

That was honestly shocking to hear. If a single positive thought about Sirius Black had ever crossed Severus Snape’s mind it was probably that he was willing to stick by his friends no matter what anyone else said, up to and including his parents. The entire school had known that Sirius Black got disowned in their sixth year for being a Blood Traitor, and that the Potters had taken him in. Black was as loyal as a dog he was named after, which was quite literally the only good trait he possessed, as far as Severus was concerned. 

But apparently even that was giving Black too much credit.

And now Lily was dead because she placed her trust in the wrong man. _Again_.

“I didn’t know,” Severus said after a minute, still shaken, “I never saw him at meetings. Nobody ever mentioned him, at least not as an ally. Are you sure it was him?”

“Yes. Nobody knew. But Hagrid saw him right after the murder. He went after Peter Pettigrew, then murdered him along with a dozen Muggles. It took six Aurors to restrain him. I went to talk to him myself, in Azkaban. He just kept repeating it was all his fault, over and over again, no matter what I asked him.”

“He murdered Pettigrew? Bloody Hell...” This just kept getting better and better, didn’t it? Severus took an actual swig from the bottle of wine. In Severus’ book Pettigrew wasn’t any better than the likes of Lupin: a coward that just asked ‘how high’ when Potter or Black told him to jump, but he didn’t think the poor bastard deserved to get murdered, and certainly not by Black.

Severus could understand the feeling of a friend turning their back on you. But what Black did… Severus couldn’t even imagine it. 

“Well, we already knew the Black madness was hereditary. I guess it just took longer to come out in him than it did Bellatrix.” Severus finally decided to say. It was the only reason he could think of for Black snapping the way Dumbledore described. He took another swing of wine, and it wasn’t entirely for show anymore either.

“Ah, Bellatrix Lestrange. She and her husband have been apprehended, along with some others.”

“How’d you find them?”

“They were caught in the act of torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom with Crucio. They were…” Dumbldore sighed again, and that small motion seemed to age him another decade, “they were tortured past the point of sanity. They are currently in St. Mungo’s, but the healers told me there is little chance of recovery.”

Severus tightened his grip on the bottle. _It could have been me. It could have been Harry,_ he thought and couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. 

“Their son is alright, at least. Alastor apprehended them before they could harm little Neville,” Dumbledore said, “Unfortunately, we could not the same for Harry Potter. Do you know what happened that night, Severus?”

Here it was, the moment of truth. Time to see if Severus was truly the master spy he claimed he was. To fool not just the Dark Lord, but the Lord of Light as well.

“All I heard through the grapevine was that the Dark Lord went in and didn’t come out. I-,” Severus compulsively swallowed, “I didn’t stay around to listen to the rest when I heard Lily didn’t- Didn’t make it.”

“There is more to it than that, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore leaned forward and regarded Severus seriously, “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born as the seventh month dies..._ I’ve examined the room myself, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it was neither James nor Lily Potter that had killed Voldemort… But young Harry himself.”

“Well, now I know I’m pissed beyond reason,” Severus rubbed at his eyes, “I think I just heard you say that an infant has killed the most powerful Dark Wizard of the century.”

“But Severus, it is true,” Dumbledore insisted, “I am not yet certain how, but I can hazard a guess.”

“And what guess has your brilliant mind reached?” Severus asked a tad sarcastically.

“Both James and Lily were murdered with the Killing Curse,” Severus winced at that, “It would make sense for him to use it on their son as well. But there is no body to speak of… Only ashes remain, both of Voldemort’s body and of little Harry.”

“...are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Slowly, deliberately, Severus placed the bottle of wine on the coffee table and looked at Dumbledore with an expression of disbelief.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore stroked his beard, “Somehow, when Voldemort aimed the curse at Harry Potter, it was reflected back at him. Young Harry Potter has, essentially, saved the entire wizarding world.”

“With his life,” Severus spat.

“So it seems,” Dumbledore said, “And yet something tells me we haven’t seen the last of him. Of either of them.”

“Dabbling in Necromancy now, are we? Your arrogance truly knows no bounds.” Severus said in a drawl.

“Hardly, my boy. After all,” Dumbledore looked at him sharply, “One cannot challenge death for someone’s soul if the person in question is not dead.”

Severus very carefully did not curse inside his head, though it took a lot more of his control to stop himself than he would have thought.

“You believe the boy to be alive, even after what happened?”

“Hagrid came to Godric’s Hollow shortly after Voldemort. He said he saw a Death Eater standing in the middle of the nursery, who then disappeared a moment after.”

“It was probably the one who brought the news then.” 

“Do you know who it was?”

“I didn’t see them, and I only heard the news secondhand. It still doesn’t explain how you think an _infant_ survived having the _Killing Curse_ cast upon him.”

Dumbledore’s face twisted with a hint of frustration. “It is only a suspicion for now. But something about the whole setup… Doesn’t quite feel right.”

“Have you tried locating him?” Severus asked, “I do seem to remember you having some means to do it.”

“Indeed I have, though it yielded no result.”

“Then he is dead.”

“Not necessarily. He could be behind wards.”

“Strong enough to keep you out?” Severus raised an eyebrow, “Sir, sometimes the likeliest solution _is_ the correct one.”

“My boy, haven’t I told you already to call me Albus?” Dumbledore chastised him, then sighed, “I must admit, the odds are not in favor of my theory. And yet, it keeps bothering me like a particularly mischievous Wrackspurt.”

“A what?” Severus asked incredulously, “Actually, no, I don’t want to know, and more importantly, don’t you have better to be doing than interrupting my drinking?”

“Not at all. Saving you from self-destruction is the most important task within my power I could think of doing.”

Severus actually flinched at that. He’d almost forgotten how good the old wizard was at this. A year ago he had been willing to agree to anything so long as Dumbledore put his considerable power towards keeping Lily safe. Now, the idea that he was willing to use that power for Severus’ well-being wasn’t just flattering, it was downright seductive. If Severus just allowed himself to believe that he was anything more to Dumbledore than a pawn…

_And what will you give me in return?_

Not Harry Potter. Not Lily’s son.

“You’re wasting your time then,” Severus said and took another drink, “I’ve no wish to be saved.”

“I have trouble believing that. I know you, Severus, better than I think you would like. You think you are the only one who could save you. I only ask that you allow me to throw you the rope.”

Severus almost snorted at that. Rope, hah! More like bait. 

“And what _rope_ would that be?”

“Horace Slughorn has expressed his wishes to retire once I’ve found a suitable replacement for the position of a Potions Professor,” Dumbledore’s eyes regained some of that twinkle that drove Severus up the wall, “I could think of no one better than you.”

“No.”

Dumbledore had the gall to look surprised at that. He regained his composure quickly though. “And why not?”

“Because I know _you_ , better than you would like me to,” Severus flung his words back at him, “I wasn’t a spy for nothing. Everything you do has ulterior motives. You sending a Patronus instead of an owl. Coming here instead of summoning me to you. And now offering me a job, right under your thumb.”

Severus looked Dumbledore straight in the eye, just _daring_ him to try and read his mind, promising him he would find nothing pleasant should he be so bold.

“You want something. No, you want _me_ for something. Something you’re not telling me. I’m done risking my neck for empty promises, _Albus_. I’ve had enough of that from the previous Lord, I’m not falling for it again. So tell me now, or get the Hell out of my house.”

The way the older wizard was looking at him, Severus thought he just might have bollocks enough to try and Legillimize him. But his Occlumency shields were up and strong. He brutally shoved each and every scrap of memory of Harry Potter so far behind them he could barely find them himself. No matter how hard the old bastard pushed, Severus would neither bend nor break.

In the end, Dumbledore looked away, his blank expression not enough to hide the unease in his body language. He was silent for a moment that stretched into eternity. The sitting room was quiet like someone had cast _Silencio_ when Severus wasn’t looking.

Finally, a chink in Dumbledore’s armour appeared. He heaved a gusty sigh and seemed to age a decade in front of Severus’ eyes.

“Horace isn’t resigning simply because he has decided teaching and collecting promising students has lost its appeal,” Dumbledore said heavily, “I had informed him of Voldemort’s demise myself. I thought it was the least he deserved, having been his teacher. But when I told him he was dead, it was neither sadness nor relief I saw in his face. It was fear. I’m sure you can understand the concern I felt at that moment.”

“I assume it was justified.”

“Indeed. I cast _Legillimens,_ a mild one, but it was enough. Severus,” Dumbledore looked at him again, “Horace Slughorn is absolutely certain that Voldemort will return.”

Severus’ blood turned to ice. 

“He knows I suspect he has something to do with it, and has gone so far as to temper with his own memories. So far, I’ve had no luck getting that information from him. But if he is right, it means we have not won the war, merely postponed it.”

“I see…” Severus muttered. Bloody Hell, if Dumbledore was correct the Dark Lord _was_ practicing necromancy. If he were to truly return from the dead Severus had no doubt he would continue on right where he left off. 

Dumbledore knew it as well. And he wanted his chess pieces in the right places.

Severus had been the pawn that, when he made it to the end of the board, didn’t just become the Queen but changed colours. Voldemort hadn’t known that, and if his death was the chess game equivalent of nipping off for a spot of tea, Dumbledore wasn’t planning to tell him either. He was shuffling the pieces in his favor while his opponent wasn’t looking.

Neither of them were counting on the fact that one of the pieces was no longer willing to play.

“Be that as it may, my answer is still no.”

“Severus-”

“I’m done. I did everything you asked of me, I gave _everything_ I had for this war, and it was all for nothing.” Severus glared at Dumbledore, “Lily’s dead, and so are the rest of them. You have no more cards left to play.”

Dumbledore’s expression went cold.

“It seems your memory is even shorter than Horace’s. You say you gave everything you had for the war, and it was all for nothing. How readily you forget that it was you who gave the prophecy to Voldemort that led to Lily’s death. It may have been the Dark Lord who cast the curse, but you are not blameless yourself. Do you have so little respect for her, that you would not even honour her memory?”

And with those words, Severus Snape fucking snapped.

“DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LILY’S MEMORY!!!” He howled as he flung the half empty wine bottle at the wall. It exploded in a shower of sparks. The lights flickered with wild magic, the furniture trembled and the books were flung from their shelves, the magic from within unleashed with such fury it felt like it was ripping Severus apart.

“I KNOW BLOODY WELL WHAT I DID!!! SHE WOULD NOT BE A MERE MEMORY IF IT HADN’T BEEN FOR ME!!!” Severus screamed at his former Headmaster, who stood impassively, watching, “IT’S MY FAULT SHE’S DEAD!!! THAT THEY’RE ALL DEAD!!! THE ONLY WAY TO HONOUR IT WOULD BE TO SLIT MY OWN THROAT!!!”

Those words shocked Severus almost as much as they did Dumbledore. The older wizard took his wand out in a flash and wordlessly cast _Imobillus_.

Everything stopped, frozen in the moment. Dishes stopped on their way to their destruction. Books stopped ripping out their own pages. Severus’ face was frozen in a terrifying rictus of rage and pain, but it did little to quiet the raging fire inside him.

“On the contrary,” Dumbledore said gently, “Memories are all we have of the dead. And if my own memory serves, even at her worst I believe Lily would never for a moment consider you taking your life a worthy revenge.”

He slowly released the spell’s hold on Severus and their surroundings. The dishes fell and broke anyway. The books collapsed in the heaps of their own pages, their ruination complete. Severus’ legs refused to support their owner’s weight so he simply fell backwards onto the sofa, as torn apart as he was on the inside.

“I see now I came to you far too soon,” Dumbledore sighed yet again, sitting down himself. He idly waved his wand around, imposing order on the chaos strewn room, repairing what Severus had in his rage broken. He hid his face in his hands, letting his hair form a dark curtain between him and the rest of the world.

“Grief is nothing to be ashamed of. We all bear it differently, my boy. If yours seeks an outlet in destruction, let it. It is far better it destroys mere objects than your heart.”

Severus said nothing.

“You know,” Dumbledore continued almost conversationally, “I often forget how truly young you are. You have carried a terrible burden on your shoulders, but you have done it with such grace it is hard to believe you are less than a quarter of my age.”

He paused and cast a long look at the young man who still refused to look at him.

“They say that wisdom comes with age, but all the wisdom in the world cannot cure us of our innate humanity. I am human, Severus, just as you are. We all do things we regret, things we cannot fix. All we can do, is find a way we can bear to live with our actions.”

Once the room was back to its original condition Dumbledore slowly stood up. Severus had still not looked up. He approached slowly and laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. 

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love through your own folly,” He paused, as if he’d said something he didn’t wish to reveal, “Take all the time you need. If you have need of me, please do not hesitate to reach me.”

And with one final squeeze to Severus’ shoulder, the elder wizard left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a nightmare all-around, and after all the struggle to get through it I'm still not entirely happy with how it's organised but at least I feel I got the characterization right. Bear in mind, this Severus and Dumbledore had only been on the same side for about a year, and not over a decade at the point we see in canon. That kind of trust takes building, and they don't have that here.  
> Sorry about the cliffhanger btw.


	4. 1981: Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being paranoid comes with the territory of being Slytherin. It means planning for the worst while not daring to hope for the best.
> 
> So Severus plans his Last Act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the people who commented: I absolutely love you and obsessively read your comments before bed, and if you left a comment telling me all the things you liked about the chapter you are officially entitled to my firstborn. If the thought of hitting the reply button didn't make my social anxiety skyrocket into stratosphere I would be showering you with love, but alas, I'm an absolute mess. So please accept this author's note: You are all awesome and great and lovely, thank you!!!

It was a long time before Severus moved. 

He sat there alone in the room, alone in his head, trying to burn through his anger behind the safety of his shields until there was nothing left of it but ash.

His fault. It was his fault. She was dead because of him. They were dead because of him. 

Severus wanted to scream.

But he didn’t. His iron wrought Occlumency shields cracked, and through those cracks a crucial memory emerged: Harry Potter, Lily’s son, was alive and well, likely playing on Isobel Fisher’s carpet with her daughter. He was safe.

For now.

Dumbledore was rarely wrong, something that his most recent visit had further proven. All evidence to the contrary, he had correctly concluded that Harry Potter had survived the Dark Lord’s attack. If he believed Voldemort had means to return from the dead, something Slughorn seemed to think too, it was very likely he was right on that account as well.

Voldemort would one day be back, and how was Severus supposed to protect Harry then?

Slowly, like a wooden doll that had just come to life, he rose to his feet and entered the kitchen. He roughly pulled open a kitchen drawer and took a meat cleaver from it. He weighed it in his hand for a moment then resolutely marched upstairs towards the attic.

It was more of a crawlspace right under the roof rather than a proper attic. It had no windows and no lights, the only purpose it had was to collect dust and run the phone and electricity wires through. At least, until about six days ago.

Severus soundlessly cast Lumos and revealed the reason the most powerful wizard in Britain could not find Harry Potter.

Three runic circles drawn on the floor, each seven feet in diameter, each interconnected in exactly the same measure. It was the single ritual in existence that successfully employed three vastly different types of magic: Light magic, Dark magic and Blood magic each represented with a circle with corresponding runes, one in chalk, one in tar and one in blood. 

Severus’ blood. The damned circle took two pints from him and most of the day to complete and left him barely coherent enough to do the ritual itself, an absolutely terrifying prospect when he didn’t even know if the amalgam of magic would even work or just blow up in his face.

Once he had decided that he was keeping Lily’s boy he knew the first thing he had to do was make sure that the rest of the world kept thinking him dead. Dumbledore being busy with chasing Death Eaters and Sirius Black gave him time to put up the strongest protection wards he could concoct on the house. They made Harry Potter impossible to find as long as the house was standing, and make it impossible for anyone to harm him under its roof. 

At least, as long as each rune comprising the design was undisturbed.

Severus looked at the cleaver in his hand.

He wasn’t in any way suited to raising a child. Everyone was telling him that, from his nosy but well-meaning neighbour to the bloody baby store cashier. But he knew what his shortcomings were and he was willing to work on them, and until Dumbledore’s visit he had thought he might just be getting the hang of it. Isobel had given him some baby books that he had read more attentively than his Potions Mastery thesis. By all standards they listed he was doing a rather good job of taking care of a young human. Even Isobel, a fully trained paediatrics nurse, was impressed.

No, he wasn’t suited for the task he had set for himself, but he was willing to try for the sake of Lily’s memory. So her sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

In the end, it just might be.

If Voldemort was after Harry Potter there were no wards Severus could design that would save him. There was nothing he could do the first time the Dark Lord had decided to kill him, short of running with his tail between his legs to a new master, begging for scraps like an abused mutt. Even Dumbledore, with the entire Ministry and the Order behind him, couldn’t stop Voldemort.

What chance did Severus have then?

He was alone. He had burned his bridges with Dumbledore with that little tantrum of his. The Malfoys had probably developed selective amnesia by now to avoid having him pin any Death Eater activity on them. The Lestranges were in Azkaban along with Sirius Black, and by the time the Ministry got done with them they would be going after Severus next. 

He was one of the Marked. All they would have to do was tell him to raise his left sleeve and the next thing he knew he would be wearing striped pyjamas and rooming in a cell between Black and Bellatrix.

And Harry Potter would be abandoned to his fate.

Severus looked at the wards again.

Dumbledore would be the first to find out once the wards broke. What would he do with Harry once he found him? Probably place him with a ‘proper’ Wizarding family, under the assumption that ‘proper’ was a stand-in for ‘in the Order’, which would probably mean Weasley, or maybe Tonks or Prewett. Or he’d have the same idea Severus had, to hide him away from the Wizarding world entirely, out of reach of power-hungry individuals that would spoil his precious saviour? Perhaps he’d even take him in himself and train him from the moment the boy could hold a wand to defeat Voldemort. Hell, knowing Dumbledore, he might just consider _Remus bloody Lupin_ as the perfect candidate, considering how fond he was of his little Gryffindor gang.

One thing was for certain though: the boy had a far better chance of surviving under Dumbledore’s protection than Severus’. And Dumbledore had a far better chance of actually _being there_ to protect him than Severus did. 

So why was he hesitating so much?

Just drop the damn knife, break the circle and wait. Depending on how often the old Headmaster tried new locating techniques Severus might even have time to say goodbye and Obliviate the Fisher family. 

But every time Severus so much as blinked he swore he could see Lily, pleading with him to do this and do it right. He owed her that much.

 _I’m so sorry Lily,_ Severus thought. What was the point of keeping the boy if he couldn’t even keep him safe?

He raised the knife.

* * *

That evening Severus once again found himself on Isobel Fisher’s doorstep, this time looking even more tired and distraught than the time she first saw him.

At least he assumed that was the reason Isobel had taken one look at him, immediately shuffled him into the kitchen and nearly poured tea straight down his throat rather than bother with a cup.

“So,” she started hesitantly, fiddling with her own cup, “how did it go?”

Severus took a sip of his tea, wondering how to phrase his words so they made sense to a Muggle and yet were at least somewhat truthful.

“The case judge is my former Headmaster,” close enough, “He just told me that, as my boss was to blame for the accident, and I wasn’t on good terms with my cousin, some of the blame could fall on me.” Not quite, but it would be true soon enough.

“What?” Isobel looked rather taken aback, “How in the world would they manage to blame you for a car accident you weren’t even involved in?”

“Because it wasn’t an accident. It was a deliberate crash.”

Isobel went pale at that. “Oh… Yes, I see how that could create problems. But, um, you weren’t…?”

“His actions were his own. But,” Severus swallowed compulsively, “he wouldn’t have known about them if I hadn’t told him. When he started asking about my cousin and her husband…”

“It’s not your fault, son, there is no way they can blame you for that.”

Severus would argue but he took a sip of tea to quell his words. She had no way of knowing the measure of Severus’ blame. 

“That’s not the main problem, though.” Severus said, “Harry was given to me as I’m his closest next of kin, but if the case is ruled unfavourably-”

“They could take him away from you.” Isobel went even paler, “If he has no other family left he’ll end up in the system.”

“Yes.”

“But,” she scrambled for words, “you said the judge was your school Headmaster. Surely he would-?”

“He… Wasn’t very fond of me when I was a student. If anything he might rule me guilty on principle.”

The teacup was shaking slightly in Isobel’s hand. But when Severus looked at her face he saw rage. She was doing her best to restrain herself but she was no Occlumens. In her anger her normally kind face was twisted into an ugly sneer.

“Tha dozy cunt!” She screeched and Severus actually jumped in his seat, nearly spilling his tea all over himself, “Scaby bassa, doin’ tha tae ya! If ‘e comes ‘ere ah aut tae-”

Suddenly she stopped, visibly composed herself and took a sip of tea. Severus didn’t dare breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her accent under control, “I just can’t stand people like that. That he’d ruin your and wee Harry’s life just because he’s a bitter old bastard… I’m so sorry.”

Severus slowly lowered the teacup that had served as his shield.

“It might not happen,” Severus said, “But I feel it would be better to prepare for the worst. And I must ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“I have the means to pull some strings,” Severus said somewhat hesitantly, “In the worst case, that being that I was imprisoned and Harry put in the system… If I arranged that he went to you, would you take him in?”

Isobel’s jaw just about hit the floor, though she pulled it up quickly. “Severus, I’m not sure if I have the means to-”

“I do,” Severus interrupted, “If it does come to that, I can have my father’s pension go to you, and arrange that you are seen as the legal guardian. There is only one thing I’m asking you: are you willing to take him? I know you’ve only known us for a week, but even with that you are still the only one I could think of I would trust with this. If it does happen… Could you love him as your own?”

Isobel looked at him long and hard, shocked speechless. But after a few moments she turned conflicted. Hand over her mouth, she leaned back in her chair to think. Eventually her face softened and she turned slightly to look towards the sitting room where Alyssa and Harry were playing with her plushies.

“Yes,” she finally decided, her eyes glassy, “I hope to Jesus, Mary and Joseph it doesn’t come to that, but if I’m truly the only one you would go to, even knowing me for just a week like you said… Yes, I would take him.”

Severus slowly breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Her willingness to do it didn’t make it much easier, but it would have to be enough. She might never forgive him for this, but if it meant keeping Lily’s son safe… There were worse things he was willing to do.

He took out his wand and pointed it at her face. 

“Severus, what-?”

“ _Confundo memoriam._ ” 

* * *

The next day, Severus woke up to an owl tapping at his window.

It carried a summons to his hearing, ordering him to court for his crimes. Failure to appear would make him a wanted man, treated as an admission of guilt of being a loyal Death Eater. Phrased far more politely, of course, but the message was clear. They would make him willingly walk to his own funeral.

Having done all he could, Severus put on his cloak, steeled his nerves and used the Portkey provided to go to the Ministry.

Of course, then they made him sit down and wait. The secretary at the admissions table distractedly told him that the Wizengamot members were on their break, his hearing was postponed at the last minute until after lunch.

Bloody bureaucrats. 

So he sat there in the waiting room, reading through the Prophet issues from last week. As far as he could tell, parsing through sensationalist phrasing, most of what Dumbledore had told him was public knowledge: 

Voldemort was dead, having been killed by his own reflected curse. That one was true.

Harry Potter was dubbed The Boy Who Vanished, allegedly being the one to deflect the curse with accidental magic. Severus would have scoffed if it wasn’t a distinct possibility. His money was on the spell being miscast, but it was just as likely as any other explanation. The article went on and on about all the possibilities of what could have happened to him afterwards only to conclude that nobody had any idea. Severus smirked at that.

Sirius Black was in Azkaban, though not for betraying James and Lily Potter but for the murder of Peter Pettigrew, who had tried and failed to stop him from blowing up an entire neighbourhood block and killing a dozen Muggles in the process. There was only a single finger found to even confirm his identity.

It also mentioned that Pettigrew was awarded an Order of Merlin posthumously, for standing up to a former friend turned Death Eater, though Black was one of the unmarked. Severus’ own Mark, still and inert now that it’s caster was dead, burned.

Several of the articles mentioned names of apprehended Death Eaters. Those with the Mark were quickly shuffled to Azkaban with minimal trial. Rodolphus’ and Bellatrix’s trial was extensively covered, writing how they swore fealty to Voldemort in front of the entire court, and eagerly awaited his return.

Severus hoped they weren’t aware of just how right they were.

Right after the article about the Lestrange trial was one about Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were reported to have died at the hands of Death Eaters, leaving their son, Neville Longbottom, in the care of his grandmother, Augusta.

Dumbledore was mentioned in almost every issue, sometimes more than once, commended for his leadership in the battle against the Dark Lord. Prominent Aurors were also mentioned, often in the context of being awarded an Order of Merlin.

Severus’ own name wasn’t mentioned anywhere, which he decided against being optimistic about. After all, if they kept up the pretence of a trial and a chance of him being pardoned they could make him come to them. It wouldn’t have worked if coming here hadn’t been part of Severus’ plan, but he had no doubt the bloody incompetent officials would be congratulating themselves on their ‘brilliant plan’.

Once he was done with the events he cautiously turned to the obituaries.

In the very first newspaper he saw Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Killed by a bunch of Death Eaters around the same time as Alice and Frank Longbottom. Severus remembered them only from his school days, as he wasn’t around for many Order meetings so as not to compromise his position as a spy. 

He recognised only a few names in the second newspaper, but it was nobody he actually knew.

He found Evan Rosier in the third issue. _Killed while avoiding capture,_ the obituary read, which was certainly like him. Rosier had been a friend of his, for a certain interpretation of the word, during his school years. He had been rather disdainful of Severus when he was first invited into their little Death Eater club, but had warmed up to him considerably when he realized how much Severus knew about the Dark Arts. He even sought him out sometimes to bounce ideas off of.

Severus refused to regret his death. Rosier was a sadistic bastard and absolutely unswerving in his convictions. Severus had seen him gleefully rape a Muggle girl and slit her throat afterwards. He was exactly the kind of man that deserved to be killed. 

Severus angrily closed the newspaper and nearly chucked it across the table. He grabbed the next issue and flopped it open more aggressively than was strictly needed. 

When he actually looked at the pictures on the page he startled so bad he nearly dropped the paper.

There, from a single square of yellowish paper, reported amongst many other faces that had met the same fate, overshadowed by his big brother yet again, Regulus Black was looking at Severus.

The numbing sensation was back in Severus’ fingers, like all the blood was returning to the centre of his body without any being pumped back.

Regulus was dead.

When Regulus had disappeared a month or so back Severus had hoped he’d found a way out. That he’d taken his Black fortune and disappeared somewhere in America, under a new name and a new face and was learning how to become a magipainter, something he had secretly confessed that he wanted to be to Severus. 

But it wasn’t to be. It seemed Severus was going to lose everyone he cared about by the time he was in prison.

“Severus?”

The familiar voice had Severus’ head shooting up in surprise.

Lucius Malfoy stood there with his wife holding his elbow, both of them looking disproportionately shocked to see the young Potions Master sitting in the lobby of the Ministry. Severus stood up and in the same motion hid the newspaper inside his robes.

“Hello Lucius, Narcissa. I assume you are here for the same reason I am?”

The Malfoys gracefully regained their bearings as only those born into aristocracy could. Lucius glanced around surreptitiously before sliding out a wand, not from his cane but an unfamiliar one from his sleeve. He cast _Muffliato_ and hid it back in his sleeve before Severus had time to tense.

“Severus, I’m so glad you’re alive,” Narcissa said once they were safe, “When we heard the news of our Lord’s death and couldn’t find you we became concerned. Where have you been?”

For a single gibbering second, Severus actually considered the possibility that Isobel Fisher was actually Narcissa in disguise. Her voice lacked the Scottish accent but the words and tone were exactly something he would have expected from his neighbour. 

The surreality didn’t end there.

“I was summoned for my trial.”

“And you appeared?” Lucius asked incredulously, “Severus, you do not simply appear for a trial that decides your fate! You were supposed to delay and contact us! Do you at least have a defence prepared?”

“Not much point in it,” Severus said, “Dumbledore will be the presiding judge, and you are well aware of how he feels about me.”

Narcissa looked as stricken as she would allow herself to look in public. Lucius looked like he bit into a lemon.

“When is your trial?” He finally asked.

“Whenever their lunch break is done.”

As if on cue, the members of the Wizengamot started pouring in, and each and every one of them looked just as surprised as the Malfoys to see him there. Two of them immediately started a hushed conversation, and one frantically gestured something to the secretary. 

Apparently they were more used to Lucius’ habits of delaying until all the judges were sufficiently bribed. Severus just showing up was deviating from the social norm he hadn’t even been aware of. 

No wonder the secretary had to tell him to wait. They weren’t even expecting him to appear, much less on time.

“Severus, listen to me,” Lucius told him without moving his lips noticeably, “You have a right to a lawful defence, but only if you know to request it. Ask for one, they will have to adjourn to discuss it. Several of the judges are my-”

“Ah, Severus,” they were interrupted by the arrival of Dumbledore. The old wizard didn’t look any better since the last time Severus saw him, the dark circles under his eyes just barely hidden with glasses and wrinkles. The twinkle that had been in his eye for as long as Severus had been alive was absent.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Severus nodded in return. 

“Shall we?” Dumbledore turned to the other judges and they all obediently followed him into court.

With one last look at Lucius and Narcissa, Severus followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be on vacation but the it's raining cats and dogs out here so I just randomly spit out 2000 words of this, so here you go. Sorry for the cliffhanger. Again.
> 
> P.S. Please keep in mind the entire thing is written in Severus' POV, so some bias may occur. Take some of this with a grain of salt.


	5. 1981: Those You Least Expect It From

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what do you do when your best laid plans fall through?

Ten minutes into his trial, Severus was absolutely convinced he was either dreaming or on the floor of his lab, hallucinating from a misbrewed Essence of Insanity.

When everyone on the Wizengamot had taken their seats he was told to sit in a chair in front of them and not speak unless spoken to. Severus had at the very least expected to be given Veritaserum but no. He was told to sit and wait. 

He was starting to see a pattern. 

But the discussion that followed made him seriously reconsider if he had walked into a different universe by accident. 

Dumbledore was a manipulator, that he already knew, though he had never really had the chance to see the man employ that skill on anyone other than him. But now he was sitting in the judge’s chair, and instead of trying to corner Severus into admitting his worst sins in the worst possible context, he was…

Doing the exact opposite. And doing it to the other judges.

With every argument Dumbledore shot down or cited one of Severus’ contributions to the war, he had the Wizengamot more and more convinced they had never even heard the words ‘Severus Snape’ and ‘Death Eater’ in the same sentence.

Ten minutes into the trial, Severus was just barely stopping himself from gaping in astonishment. Thirty minutes in he was officially a free man, without ever even having to say a single word.

What in the world was going on?!

Trial over, sentence given, Severus was shuffled off to the side to be given the official paperwork. He had the presence of mind not to sign anything, but apparently he didn’t need to. The man handing him the papers, yet another overworked secretary, told him if he ever ran into trouble because of his involvement in the war he was supposed to flash those papers and nobody could do anything to him.

So, not only was Severus a free man, he was also an innocent one. With Albus Dumbledore’s official signature, obviously given before the trial itself ever began.

He pinched his arm to make sure, but no, it hurt. He wasn’t dreaming. Poisoning was still a possibility though.

He had told Dumbledore straight to his face that he wasn’t going to accept his offer of teaching at Hogwarts. Depending on how much the old wizard wanted him under his thumb, Severus expected him to use this trial to try and blackmail him into accepting it. But he hadn’t so much as looked at Severus throughout.

Of all the possibilities that Severus had planned for, this one hadn’t even crossed his mind.

What did Dumbledore want?

Severus staggered out into the hall, still staring blankly at the papers with his official pardon, when he came across an even more surreal scene.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, talking to Dumbledore, all three of them with an air of joviality around them. When they spotted Severus they all turned to him with identical expressions of satisfaction, looking like they had just made the best bargain of their lives.

“Severus, there you are,” Dumbledore called, the twinkle in his eye back in full force, “I was just sharing some details from the trial with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. I’ll be going now, I’m sure you can fill them in on the rest of it.”

And with those words, Albus Dumbledore walked away, practically whistling.

Severus turned to Malfoys in disbelief. “What just happened?”

“Well done Severus!” Lucius exclaimed, “I was prepared to be the one offering _you_ help, but I forget you are a silvertongue yourself! I do not know how you did it but it must have been marvellous!”

“It’s a relief to find out we were worried for nothing,” Narcissa chimed in with a warm smile for Severus, “You must come over for tea sometime, tell us how you got not only yourself cleared on all charges, but us as well.”

It was only by virtue of being a Master Occlumens that Severus didn’t blurt out ‘I did?!’ and out himself like a complete idiot. 

“We should get going, Draco’s home with the house elves, we better get back before he gets attached to the help,” Lucius said before Severus could think of what to say, “But really Severus, you absolutely need to stop for tea soon, there is much we need to catch up on. Preferably in a more private setting.”

Before Severus could even think to decline Lucius and Narcissa flounced away in synchronicity, leaving him alone in the hallway with his thoughts.

Three seconds later he was running after Dumbledore.

“Wait!” He called after the retreating figure. Dumbledore paused for a moment before turning around, allowing Severus to catch up with him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked the elder wizard breathlessly, “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean, my boy?” Dumbledore tilted his head inquiringly.

“I already told you I will not work for you anymore,” Severus said, “You have never so much as asked me to pass the salt without an ulterior motive! And now you declare me innocent and Lucius Malfoy is thanking me for vouching for him, even though I hadn’t said a word the entire trial! _Why? What do you want?”_

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye dimmed again, but didn’t entirely disappear. He looked at Severus with something dangerously close to pity. He sighed.

“Severus, when I realized I have lost your good opinion I also realized it is no one’s fault but my own. It is rather disheartening that I have allowed my worst traits to rule my actions yet again, especially as I have considered myself to have overcome them.” His eyes were far away as he said it, in a different time and a different person standing before him.

“I remember you making a point that I had already asked too much of you,” he looked at Severus over the edge of his glasses and smiled gently, “Consider this me paying my dues.”

Severus looked at him in disbelief, “And the Malfoys?”

A tiny smirk tugged at the edges of Dumbledore’s lips, “Whatever do you mean? They were under the _Imperius_ the entire time, I think they have endured enough hardship.” That insufferable twinkle was back in full force, “Now, my boy, do not wait too long to show up for tea. Narcissa does not look like someone who would let you get away with avoiding socializing. It’ll be good for you.”

Severus was still gaping after him when the old wizard walked away, a slight spring in his step.

* * *

Half an hour later, Severus was walking home in a daze, not quite trusting himself to Apparate long distances in his current mindset.

So… Dumbledore helped him. Solved all his problems even. Out of the goodness of his heart. Or at least out of the goodness he liked to pretend was in his heart, but Severus was too tired to contemplate that difference right then. Or there was no goodness there at all, and this was all a ploy to lull Severus into a false sense of security.

He was giving himself a headache.

A headache that got exponentially bigger when he realised that he would now have to completely unravel all of his complicated and convoluted plans that he left in place on the assumption he wouldn’t be coming back.

But he was bloody well back, and now he would have to cancel the memory charm on Isobel Fisher making her think Harry was her son, she had only seen Severus Snape once in her life, about two years ago, when she was drunk and on the rebound from her divorce.

Bloody Dumbledore, making Severus sort out his own mess. 

So he let himself in the house, shrugged off his coat and collapsed on the sofa. For almost a full minute he just stared blankly at the wall where he’d thrown the wine bottle, wondering what to do with the rest of his life. The rest of his _free_ life, no less. 

The most obvious thing to do, he supposed, would be to stick to the plans he made _before_ his damnable Headmaster threw a wrench in them. And then immediately pulled out the proverbial wrench while fixing another problem Severus completely forgot he was even having.

Bloody Dumbledore.

Thank Merlin he had at least gotten to his senses in time and left the wards intact. Pulling that cleaver back up was probably not the hardest decision he’d made in his life but it was definitely up there. Severus shuddered in horror at the mere thought of what a manipulative bastard like Dumbledore was capable of turning James Potter’s brat into. If there was a universe out there in which Harry Potter was raised by Albus Dumbledore Severus truly pitied them, for Voldemort’s prophesied return was the least of their worries.

Of course, if he wanted to keep Harry hidden, he still had to make sure he was taken care of in case Severus was incarcerated. And thus the ‘I was drunk two years ago’ idea had come up again, and while it wasn’t a very favourable one it was the best Severus could come up with. 

Altering Isobel’s memories had been hard enough that he hadn’t even bothered with her daughter. At least her mother had beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, doing the same to her had been relatively easy.

Undoing that same spell would require even more work, but he couldn’t bloody well leave it! And now that Severus knew he would be sticking around he had to come up with yet _another_ plan to legitimize Harry Potter’s existence. One that didn’t include using his real name.

Isobel was right. Dumbledore was absolutely a bastard. A magnificent bastard, but a bastard nonetheless.

Severus groaned and threw his head back. How was it that his life got _more_ complicated now that he wasn’t a spy?

His movements crinkled the issue of the Prophet he’d smuggled out of the Ministry. The issue he had smuggled out specifically because of a single obituary. The obituary of one person other than Lily he had been desperately hoping would survive the war. 

Regulus Black was dead.

Funnily enough, it seemed less real than Lily’s death. He’d seen her body, had held it in his arms. There was no way to deny her death. But Regulus’ death was mere words written on a piece of paper, written by rather unreliable people. He could have faked it, made sure he would not be searched for when he sailed off to America, and the name he would sign on the paintings he made would not be that of his hated family.

Severus wished he could believe it.

He almost closed the paper when he recognised the name on the obituary two squares down from Regulus’.

 _Prince._ Moira Prince, to be exact.

 _Killed while avoiding capture,_ the words underneath the picture read, just like Evan Rosier’s. The picture itself showed a thin woman with high cheekbones, pitch-black hair and equally black eyes scowling at him from a sallow face. If Severus hadn’t been looking at it from a distance of five inches, he could have easily mistaken the woman for his own mother when she was younger.

So. It seemed he no longer had a cousin. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. When he had joined the Death Eaters he’d been told that, other than him, only his mother’s niece was still alive of the once illustrious Prince line. He hadn’t even known her name, as he’d only heard her referred to as ‘Madam Prince’, and the older woman had done her level best to avoid him. The shame of her aunt having married a Muggle was too much for her to bear, apparently.

She’d died unmarried, leaving no heirs behind. Severus supposed that now, as he was quite literally the only one of the Princes left he could claim the inheritance, especially if Lucius was willing to help him.

It was certainly an idea to contemplate later. Right now he better go fix Isobel’s mind before the falsified memories started erasing the true ones they were laid over. If he was quick enough it would be like peeling off a plaster: momentarily painful, but overall better for her health.

And then a nap. Harry would need to be put down for a nap soon, surely he wouldn’t object to Severus joining him. He needed it a lot more than the brat did.

Thus he found himself, yet again, knocking on Isobel Fisher’s door. The Muggle woman opened it shortly, preparing to tell off the solicitor she expected to find there. When she found Severus her already pale face went white.

“Severus-”

“ _Deterge,_ ” Severus cast quickly and watched as her eyes went blank, the overlaid memories being cleared away like cobwebs.

“ _Refers,_ ” he chanted gently, running the tip of his wand over her forehead in wide, slow arcs. The entire time Isobel stood in the doorway in a quiet daze.

“Mum?” A childish voice called from behind her. Done with the incantation, Severus turned slightly to look inside the house.

Alyssa was standing in the short hall hesitantly, holding Harry’s hand in one of hers. She was looking at Severus with a degree of suspicion he was used to, and when he turned to look at them she pulled Harry behind her. Then she gave Severus the best scowl she could muster, just daring him to say he was here to take Harry away.

There was a reason he hadn’t bothered putting the memory charm on her. 

“Severus?” Isobel swayed on her feet a little and Severus reached out to stabilize her. He took her by the elbow and gently led her into the house.

“I’m Severus Snape, your neighbour, we met a week ago when you decided to help me with my nephew, Harry.” Severus murmured in her ear gently, helping her memories emerge. “You were watching Harry for me while I was in court for my cousin’s car crash.”

By the time Severus sat her down on the kitchen table Isobel’s eyes had cleared. She groaned and clutched her forehead in pain.

“Ah, Severus, yes,” she said, “Oh, sorry about that son, I just got a horrible headache out of bloody nowhere…”

“That’s alright,” Severus assured her, “I’ll go put on some tea, don’t get up, I know where the kettle is.”

Isobel just waved him away. Confident she would stay put Severus started walking towards the kitchen until he was out of her peripheral vision, then made for the sitting room, where Agnes, Isobel’s mother, sat watching telly.

“ _Deterge,_ ” he cast from behind, and then moved so she could see him when he cast the Recall Spell.

“Are you a magic-shean?” Alyssa, who had been watching him the entire time, asked.

“I think you mean ‘magician’,” Severus corrected her automatically, “And yes, I suppose you could call me that.” 

He didn’t dare Obliviate a child that young, and it would cause a lot less trouble if she told her mother she thought he was a magician than a wizard. He could pull a hankie chain out of his sleeve if it meant Isobel wouldn’t get suspicious in case she ever caught a glimpse of his wand.

“Why don’chu have a hat?”

On the other hand, he would have to endure questions like these…

“Because I’m indoors.”

“I didn’ see you have it out.”

“I don’t always wear it.”

“Why?”

“Because annoying people like you ask questions,” he barked at the child. Thankfully he was finished fixing the old woman’s memory, so he hid his wand in his sleeve and returned to the kitchen. He poked the kettle to boil and dug around the cupboards until he found tea bags.

Alyssa stubbornly followed him, still dragging Harry after her. The boy was surprisingly quiet and obedient, dutifully following the older girl as he sucked on his binky.

“Mum said Harry is my brother now.”

“Your mum was mistaken,” Severus said levelly. Wonderful, it seemed he had now sunk to the point of gaslighting a toddler.

“No!” She insisted, “Mum said Harry is my brother, so he is my brother!”

“Do you even know what makes someone your brother?”

That threw her for a loop. She scrunched her pale brows in thought and was quiet for a minute. Severus took that opportunity to pour the tea into cups and put one in front of Isobel, who still hadn’t looked up.

“I dunno,” Alyssa finally said.

“Someone is your brother or sister if they have the same parents you do,” Severus told her. At that point Isobel raised her head inquiringly, “Harry can’t be your brother because Isobel isn’t his mum.”

Isobel looked confused. Alyssa looked ready to throw a tantrum. 

Alyssa acted first.

“I don’ care!” She yelled at Severus then decisively pulled Harry closer. Before Severus or Isobel could stop her she wrapped her tiny arms around Harry’s tinier waist and lifted him straight off his feet.

“Mine!” She told Severus in a tone that brooked no argument, then carried a bewildered Harry off to the sitting room.

The adults were left in astonished silence.

“Well,” Isobel said hesitantly, “That’s the impeccable logic of a three-year-old for ya'.”

Severus didn’t even say anything to that, just gave a vaguely human sounding grunt and took a sip of his tea.

“So…” Isobel looked at Severus, “How did it go?”

“Strangely,” Severus automatically, then realised it would mean nothing to her, “It went well, I suppose, just… Not the way I expected it to.”

“Were you cleared of the charges?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Isobel pressed. As much as Severus just wanted to tell her to drop it he felt far too guilty over scrambling her brains not once, but twice, to do that.

Besides, she’d given good advice before. Maybe she could explain it to him. 

“The judge, my headmaster…” Severus wondered how to phrase it, “He ruled me innocent and… Just wished me well. He hadn’t asked anything of me. Nothing at all.”

“And that’s unusual for him?”

“He’s certainly never done that before. I used to think he couldn’t comment about the weather without it having some kind of hidden meaning. He…” How to put it…?

“My former boss was involved in a lot of less than legal activities.” Severus finally offered, “The Headmaster was trying to catch and convict him. When I came to him to tell him about those… Activities, he didn’t believe me at first, but he did listen to what I was telling him.”

“Severus, were you involved in those… Activities?” Isobel hesitantly asked.

Severus just nodded. Let her make of that what she would.

“I suppose those were some of the charges you were worried about?” Severus nodded at that as well, “And he cleared you of those as well?” Another nod.

“I don’t understand why,” Severus said, “He asked me to come work for him earlier in the week. I told him outright I wouldn’t, I wanted nothing to do with any of them anymore.”

“Oh, I can just imagine how well he took that,” Isobel snorted. 

“Not at first, but… Then he told me to… Take as much time as I need. To grieve, he said. I thought it was a trap, but…”

Severus paused, his thoughts still whirring. Isobel’s eyes narrowed, looking like she was starting to have a sneaking suspicion.

“Severus, how old is your former Headmaster?”

Well that was a non-sequitur, and one Severus would have to answer cautiously. Last he checked Muggles didn’t live past one hundred.

“Eighty-something, I think.” Severus said with a small shrug, “I didn’t exactly inquire.”

Isobel hid her laugh in the teacup. 

“What?”

“Severus, I’m going to tell you something you will not like,” Isobel said, mirth still in her voice.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her.

“Son, I’m only thirty-five and you seem like little more than a boy to me, especially when you’re not wearing that fearsome scowl of yours.”

Severus did his best not to scowl at that.

“I can just imagine what you would look like to a man that old, who had seen you when you were an actual boy,” Isobel continued, “It sounds to me like you had fallen in with a bad crowd, but you found a way to get out. Not many people can do that. If he asked you to work for him, my guess is that he saw potential in you to do something great, but was afraid of you going back to your former friends and tried to keep you where he could keep an eye on you. How close am I?”

Severus was looking at her in shock.

“Closer than you wanted me to know, I think,” She took another sip of her tea, “I’m not judging you, Severus. You’re looking at a nurse that married a soldier, I can guarantee you I’ve seen worse than whatever you did.”

The images of a Muggle girl screaming under Rosier, children watching their parents writhe under Bellatrix’s _Crucio,_ Death Eaters he didn’t even know the names of burning homes with Muggleborns still inside… They all flashed before Severus’ eyes, and the Mark burned. Not from Voldemort’s call, but from something much more innate, something Severus was intimately familiar with.

Guilt.

“You can’t know that,” Severus clutched at his arm, “You don’t know what I did.”

“Well, whatever it is, you got pardoned within one afternoon, it can’t be that bad.”

She didn’t know, and there was no way Severus could tell her. He couldn’t tell her that he had stood there and watched as Rosier raped the poor girl, how he had actually offered to share with Severus, even though he’d declined. He was the one holding the girl whose mother Bellatrix was torturing, keeping her still and making sure she was watching. He couldn’t tell her that he was the one who cast Fiendfyre at that house, and he had listened to the screams and smelled the burning flesh-

He couldn’t tell her she could have been one of those Muggles.

 _They deserve it, Severus,_ Voldemort had said, standing there with his face ablaze in the light of the fire, _Muggles are vermin, just like your father. Pain and suffering are the only things they know, and they spread it like a disease. Death is the kindest thing you could give them._

Severus had been seventeen, so naive and so in awe of the Dark Lord that had _seen_ him. He had seen Severus beyond his blood, his ugly face, his poverty and his scars, he had seen what Severus could do with even the slightest scrap of opportunity. He had been so eager to please, to be seen, to be accepted. So _desperate,_ he had been fully prepared to do _anything_ the Dark Lord asked of him.

It made Severus sick to his stomach to think that, had Lily never been targeted, he would have still been that abhorrent creature, sowing suffering and death for a mere pat on the head.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Severus told her, his voice strangely choked up, “But I do. I know what kind of man I am. How can move on from that?”

Childish laughter in the next room. An older woman reprimanding them, followed by a patter of scurrying feet.

“This was a mistake,” Severus said, his breath quickening, “I can’t raise a child, least of all hers. She’d hate me for it, she hated me already. I can’t do it. I should have just let them take him away.”

“Oh dear, we’re at that stage already?” Isobel scooted her chair closer and took both of Severus’ hands in hers, “Son, listen to me. You need to calm down. Take a deep breath, yes, but slower now. Right, now another one like that, you’re doing good.”

Clear, simple instructions. Orders, phrased politely. Isobel was good at those. He listened automatically, timing his breaths to match her words. Soon Severus had his breathing under control, though his hands were still shaking. Isobel didn’t let him go.

“Severus, remember when I first met you? Remember how I told you I thought you weren’t ready to raise a child?”

Severus nodded despondently. 

“I was wrong. Look at me, Severus,” Isobel said gently but insistently.

Severus raised his head slightly. He hadn’t even noticed he was hiding behind his hair, a habit he had fought to train himself out of since childhood.

“I was wrong, and you have proven that aplenty in just the last week,” Isobel said, “You may be young, but you are far from immature as I feared. You are grieving right now, but you’re actually working through it, and not letting it fester. I’ve seen people twice your age not half as responsible as you are.”

Isobel gave him a kind smile and rubbed his knuckles with her thumbs.

“‘This too shall pass,” she quoted, “It may pass like a kidney stone, but it _will_ pass.’ I don’t know who said it but wiser words have never been spoken. You will get through this, Severus. You’re not alone.”

Severus looked down at her hands, gently holding his. He thought of her help, so freely offered, and the only thing she asked in return was friendship. He thought of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who had chosen him as Draco’s Godfather out of all ‘more appropriate’ candidates, who had offered their help the moment they found out he needed it.

He thought of Dumbledore, who had given him his freedom when he asked for it.

“You can do this, Severus,” Isobel continued, “Harry is your nephew, and I can tell you cared for his mother a great deal, estranged or not. He may have been a surprise, but the moment he was given to you, even though you hardly knew what you were doing, you were determined to learn how to take care of him. You may not love him yet, but give it time. It will come. Until then, think of how happy your cousin would be, that her son is with someone who will raise him well.”

Severus’ vision was blurry. He blinked to clear it but it only made his cheek wet. He blinked again. His throat felt closed up. He swallowed. Slowly, like a rising crescendo, a sob welled up in his chest and no power in the world would keep it down. 

And so, Severus Snape cried. He cried for Lily Evans, Lily Potter, the Lily who would never again light up the room with her smile. He cried for Regulus Black, who would never be a painter he so wished he could be. He cried for Harry Potter, who would never know his parents and how much they truly loved him. 

Mostly, he cried for himself. For his grief, for everything he’d lost. It poured silently down his face, twisted in pain he scarcely know how to name.

He cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long mostly because I had no idea how the fuck to finish it. So here you go. Enjoy.
> 
> Detergo - wipe/cancel, Refero - recall/restore.  
> Both spells are in Imperative I conjugation because... It makes sense? I took Latin in High School and I was good enough to make it to the state competition so I have some knowledge of it, and it makes more sense to me that if you're forcing something to change its nature through magic, you would literally be ordering it to do it rather than describing your own actions. And since I'm handwaving these two as invented-by-Snape, I thought to give them a bit more 'oomph' like this, and this way it's extra security if someone tried to reverse them, they would automatically try Present Indicative form rather than Imperative. Snape is just paranoid like that.
> 
> The 'stage' Isobel is referring to is the Bargaining stage of the Kübler-Ross model for grief, which she would have been taught in nursing school. It's, strictly speaking, a pattern of emotions someone experiences when faced with their own death, but I found it a good guide to follow when writing grief in general. Look it up if you want to know more.
> 
> Again, this entire thing is written in Severus' POV. His assumptions are his own, based on his own experiences and not necessarily the truth.


	6. 1981: Lie of Letter

That evening, Severus walked home with Harry sleeping in his arms.

He felt… strangely numb. Like his breakdown in Isobel Fisher's kitchen had drained him of the pain inside, but hadn't left anything to fill the void. He didn't feel anything, good or bad.

Maybe that in itself was a good thing.

He actually opened the door with a key. Put it in the lock and twisted, turned the knob and everything. His wand lay inert in his left sleeve, understanding that its master was in no state to wield it properly.

He hadn't gotten around to putting all the baby stuff back in the open, but he hadn't touched Harry's room. The changing table was still in place, along with the crib that had a real mattress. Isobel had shown him how to search the papers for ads of people selling off things they no longer needed. A couple with a boy Alyssa's age were looking to sell off all the baby stuff their son had outgrown and they had supplied Severus well. 

When they learned that Severus was a newly minted 'single father', they'd practically given it away for free. It baffled Severus, that Muggles he didn't even know would be so kind to him for no reason, other than sympathy. That Isobel's kindness wasn't as much of an aberration as he had thought.

It was another startling reminder of how wrong he had been in his beliefs.

So the crib now had a mattress, Severus had turned the desk into a changing table, and there was a basket with nappies right in between them. Chew toys, which were actually called teething rings, were strewn across the floor. Harry had taken great delight in flinging them over the bars and watching Severus levitate them back in. 

His joy was so infectious it made even Severus crack a smile. Briefly.

He laid the boy down on the changing table and put on a clean nappy on him with practiced ease. The food-stained onesie was put in the basket with the other dirty clothes and Severus gently maneuvered Harry into his pyjamas.

“Mama?” Harry asked sleepily. Just as he had every night for the past week.

“Mama is not here.”

“Dadee?”

“He's not here either.”

Harry didn't ask any further. He sniffed a little around his binky and his eyes grew misty. His face scrunched up and within a minute he was sobbing.

Just like every other night, Severus raised Harry to his chest and rubbed his back as he cried. He did so relatively quietly, unlike the screaming from the first day his parents were denied to him. He fisted his tiny hands in Severus' hair but didn't pull. Just let himself be comforted through his grief.

Isobel had said it was normal, that he should just let the boy cry himself out. He was grieving as well, and there was no cure for it but time. Time and care.

Care that Severus would have to provide now.

_You may not love him yet, but give it time. It will come._

Would it? Severus had taken it as his duty to protect the boy, to provide for him until he could do so himself, but… Would there ever come a time when Severus would actually care about Harry Potter like his own? He had feared becoming his father so much he had sworn he would never sire any children. But as it turned out, he didn't have to. Through an entirely different fault of his own, he had a child now. Lily's son.

But he wasn't Lily's son now. He couldn't be.

Severus looked at the boy he held. The potions and healing salves he had been religiously applying to Harry's forehead had finally done their job: the wound had healed over, and though it stubbornly refused to disappear it now looked like a birthmark rather than a scar.

But the eyes… Lily's eyes, so vividly green they made Cokeworth's valley in the middle of spring look colourless in comparison, were far too recognisable. Lily's eyes on a face that would surely bear James Potter's likeness were far too dangerous to have.

So before he came to Isobel Fisher, imploring her to take Harry in, he had cast one more charm. One that had made his hand shake so badly he had barely been able to cast it.

Harry's eyes were no longer green. Now, they were the darkest shade of brown, appearing black under all but the brightest lights. 

Just like Severus'. Just like Eileen's. And, more importantly now, just like Moira Prince's.

_ If your lies cannot be disproven, they are no different from the truth. _

Moira Prince was dead. Everyone of the Prince line was dead, save Severus. Whatever he said would be taken as truth, as long as there was nobody to call out his lies. Especially if they were written down. 

Severus had a letter to write.

At that point Harry had finally fallen asleep. Severus stood in the middle of the bedroom that used to be his, holding him a moment longer. If everything went according to the fledgling plan forming in Severus' mind, he would soon no longer be Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord.

He would be an ordinary boy. He thought Lily would like that.

_Lily..._

Severus' eyes burned _again._ Bloody hell, he'd just finished blubbering and here he was, raring to go again. What use was Occlumency if he couldn't even keep his outward composure? He took a deep breath and resolutely kept the tears at bay. Control. Control was the key.

Perhaps it would be better if he wrote that letter tomorrow.

He kept rubbing Harry's back to calm down, the slow circles his palm was making over the boy's back soothing them both.

“Lily,” he whispered, an invocation and a prayer, “I wonder what you would think of me now. What you would say, if you saw me taking your son from you?”

There was no answer. Severus knew there wouldn't be one yet his heart still stiffened.

“I- I know I'm ill suited to this,” he continued, “But all things considered… I think I'm the best option he has. I will protect him, Lily, I swear. And I-” he swallowed back his tears, “I will do my best to raise him into a man you would be proud of.”

He paused, for a moment feeling ridiculous. Harry was out like a light so Severus gently lowered him into the crib and tucked him in a baby blanket he had cast a warming charm on. It was November already and the house's central heating still hadn't been turned on. Severus was leaning more towards weaving heating charms into the walls than trying to figure out how it worked. 

But for now, a warm blanket was enough.

He left the doors open a crack so he could hear if Harry woke up and went downstairs, collapsing into his armchair again. It used to be his father's. He used to sit in it whenever he came home from work, drink steadily and yell at the telly. Severus had hated that thing, old and faulty as it was, because whenever the damn television wasn't working properly it was him and Eileen who had paid the price.

Severus had chucked the damn thing out the moment Tobias died.

Now, in front of the armchair, on the stand where the telly used to sit, there were several parenting books he had checked out of the local library while Harry was with Isobel. He had read the ones she had given him on infant development, then moved on to those describing how to actually be a good parent. Severus had spent an afternoon thumbing through the entire child-rearing section, much to the confusion of the elderly librarian working there, and in the end had selected five books that seemed like they'd been read the most.

 _No time like the present,_ he thought to himself and took the topmost book off the stand, then settled in to read.

He had promised Lily he would raise her son well. It was a promise he intended to keep.

* * *

Dumbledore was right yet again: Narcissa Malfoy did not like to be kept waiting.

When Severus failed to show up on his own in the seven days Narcissa had oh-so-graciously given him, he woke up yet again to an owl tapping at his window. To be fair, he knew Narcissa, and he knew that she had expected him to show up the day after their meeting at the Ministry. Giving him a week to decide when to visit was her idea of being generous.

And the owl tapping at his window at six o'clock in the morning was her idea of revenge.

Cursing the Malfoys, the owl, the entirety of its species, the letter and his mattress, Severus got up and all but snatched the piece of parchment from the Great Horned Owl. The messenger was anything but happy with him but it didn't fly away, which meant it was instructed to wait for a reply. Wonderful.

Severus sighed and dragged himself to his desk. He tore open the envelope carelessly and nearly sneezed at the perfumed parchment and calligraphy that was so loopy it was nearly illegible. Bloody Malfoys.

> _Severus, my dear friend,_
> 
> _It is with great concern that I write this letter to you, for our world is fraught with uncertainty in these days of our Lord's death. Surely you must understand my feelings, considering the circumstances under which we parted. It would greatly ease my worries if you were to join me and my family for high tea, so we may soothe our minds with the assurances of your wellbeing._
> 
> _And if the circumstances are such that your health is failing or some manner of disturbance plagues your mind at night, I implore you to come at once, and I would use whatever power is in my possession to ease your concerns. You need not fear my reaction, nor my actions, to whatever troubles you may bring to my doorstep. We are of the same sacred house of Salazar Slytherin, and thus it is my duty and honour to aid you should you find yourself in need of me and my help._
> 
> _We eagerly await your swift reply._
> 
> _With fairest regards,_
> 
> _Lucius Malfoy_

Severus glared tiredly at the overly prolix letter. Still exhausted, it took him several tries to figure out that Lucius was inviting him to lunch and that Severus could turn to him if he was still in trouble. Two things that somehow took an entire page of calligraphy to say.

Bloody Malfoys and their bloody aristocratic pomp. Severus had no doubt both Lucius and Narcissa were behind the letter, though it was only signed by Lucius. The Malfoy heir may be good at guilt-tripping Severus into coming, but Narcissa was a _master_ at it. It would take someone far more spoiled than Severus to resist her.

The owl hooted impatiently and Severus glared at it. Perhaps the damnable creature was just as disgruntled with having to fly all the way from Wiltshire before the crack of dawn. 

Severus sighed and rubbed his eyes. Might as well put his plan into action now.

It had taken some doing to get his hands on something Moira Prince had written on. In the end, Severus went to Gringotts under the pretense of inquiring about the Prince inheritance. It turned out that while Madam Prince hadn't left a will detailing who her assets went to, she did write an order that no matter what happened to her, Severus Snape was to never see a knut of her money. It was dated about two years ago, back when Severus had started climbing the Death Eater ranks.

The paranoid woman had probably written it so Severus wouldn't try to kill her to get the inheritance. The joke was on her though. It was exactly the kind of thing Severus could spin to his advantage, so he had politely asked the goblins for a copy of the order, explaining he wanted to discuss it with a solicitor.

The goblins, who kept everything that even resembled an official document in triplicate, easily made another copy and sent Severus home with a nod. 

For the letter itself, Severus wrote:

> _To Whom It May Concern,_
> 
> _My name is Moira Prince. If you have received this letter, it means I'm dead. In the event of that happening, this letter has been spelled to be delivered to the most suitable blood relative of my son. His name is Herodion Brontes Prince._
> 
> _You, who are reading this letter, I can only assume are family of my dear Brontes, who has given his life to protect me and our son before we could even say our wedding vows. To have a child in these times of war is a hard decision, and it is not one I would have made, but that choice was made for me._
> 
> _My dear son, child of my love, was born on the 13th of July, in 1980, and I could not bear to bring him to suffer for my mistakes, that I had not agreed to marry Brontes sooner. And now, my child was born out of wedlock, and it will be all the scions of our society will ever see._
> 
> _You, who reads this letter, I implore that you do not think of my son unkindly, for I beg of you to take him in as your own. He has no other family left._
> 
> _With my eternal gratitude,_
> 
> _Moira Prince_
> 
> _The last Heiress of the House of Prince_

It had taken Severus numerous drafts and no less than two days to compose a letter that sounded suitably like it was written by Moira, explained just enough for everyone to come to a similar conclusion, and made it sound like Severus was just as surprised to find a baby on his doorstep as anyone else. Once he was finally satisfied with it he had cast a charm he had invented in his school days, the one that changed his handwriting into someone else's. It had suited him well when his classmates began paying him to do their homework for them. 

He had chosen the name 'Herodion' because it sounded suitably aristocratic, drew its roots from ancient Greek, and yet could conceivably be shortened to 'Harry'. Brontes, the name of the imaginary lover of Madam Prince, came entirely from the fact that the mark on Harry's forehead looked like lightning. 

The fact that he had essentially named the boy 'Song of the Heroic Thunderer Prince' had not escaped his notice. After the boy defeated Voldemort, it was even appropriate. He briefly wondered if James Potter would be rolling in his grave at such a pompous name.

Probably not. The man was a Gryffindor, after all.

He knew for a fact Lily would find it hilarious. Then she would probably smack him upside the head. She had always been fonder of short, simple names. There was a reason she had named her son the third most common name in Britain. 

Lily… Somehow he always ended up thinking about her, didn't he?

Severus shook his head and took out another piece of parchment and a quill. In revenge for waking him up before the arse-crack of dawn he made his handwriting extra slanted and spidery as he explained that he had recently come into possession of a baby, what was he supposed to bloody well do now?

He only regretted not being there to see Lucius snort tea out of his nose upon reading the letter.

He made a copy of Moira's letter, rolled it up along with his own, gave it to the impatient owl and returned to his bed with a heavy sigh.

Which was of course the exact moment Harry woke up and started calling for him.

Bloody Potters.

* * *

Severus had expected a speedy reply, of course. He'd just written Lucius that he had a baby, his former classmate would probably be pacing the entire time it took the owl to deliver the letter. Still, Cokeworth was in Leicestershire, at least 120 miles from the Malfoy Manor if going by air. Wizarding owls were fast, especially the Great Horned Owls Malfoys favoured, but they were still mostly bound by the laws of physics. He expected a reply around evening at the earliest.

So to say Severus was surprised to see another owl at his window just as he was serving lunch would be an understatement.

He gave Harry a thin carrot stick to gnaw on, turned off the flame under the pot and accepted the letter. The poor owl looked so exhausted Severus took pity on it and gave it a scrap of chicken tender. It gave him a pathetically grateful look and devoured it so fast he nearly lost a finger.

Suspiciously, Severus opened the letter. It bore the Malfoy seal, so it was unlikely it was a trap but it always paid to be cautious.

> **Severus,**
> 
> **This is a dire situation indeed. You must come here at once with the boy. If you are staying somewhere with a fireplace on the Network, come here by Floo, I have temporarily removed the wards on ours. If not, take that monstrous Knight Bus if you must, but for the love of Salazar do not Apparate. Children younger than five years handle Apparition extremely badly. If I knew where you were I would come to you but needs must. Come here as soon as you get this letter. **
> 
> **Sincerely,**
> 
> **Lucius Malfoy**

Severus read the letter twice, each line raising his eyebrows a bit higher. He used to think it would be a cold day in hell when Lucius Malfoy gave up those obnoxious loops he called handwriting, but apparently demons were having snowball fights today. He checked the seal again to make sure, then checked the ring on the owl’s leg: both bore the correct Malfoy seal. Still, someone could be making Lucius write this. Why in the world would Lucius seem so panicked otherwise?

Perhaps someone found out? Severus thought he’d been careful, but he _had_ been going around calling the brat Harry. It may be a very common name, but much less so in the Wizarding world. If the news that one Severus Snape had suddenly started carrying around a baby named Harry reached the right ears, it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together.

On the other hand, if someone was trying to lure him into the Malfoy Manor they would have covered their tracks a lot better. The letter _was_ written by Lucius, a simple spell confirmed it, and if it hadn’t been it would have been easier to fake his handwriting. 

The whole thing was suspect, but not quite suspect enough that Severus could justify leaving Harry with Isobel and Apparating to Malfoy Manor to see what was going on.

Before Severus could work himself into enough paranoia to do just that, another owl started tapping at his window. Another Great Horned Owl, bearing another letter with the Malfoy seal, looking equally exhausted.

Severus fed that one as well and opened another letter:

> _Dear Severus,_
> 
> _It has only occurred to my husband how his letter must sound to you after he had already sent it. I can assure you my dear, there is nothing to worry about, at least not from our end. We have both read Madam Prince’s letter, may the Gods rest her soul, and we are understandably shocked with her. To think she would do something like that to her own child is atrocious, and it is not just you we are worried for._
> 
> _My dear husband has been sitting in front of the Floo like a guard dog, waiting anxiously for confirmation that both you and the Littlest Prince are well._
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you soon, and you come to our humble home with glad tidings._
> 
> _With all my love,_
> 
> _Narcissa Malfoy_
> 
> _P.S. Please hurry, Lucius has started pacing already. I fear he will wear out the carpet soon, and I’m quite fond of it._

Well, that explained it. Lucius’ mask of calm and composed bearing was so good that Severus sometimes forgot the man was an absolute worrywart at heart. He was good at imposing order and making sure things went his way, but the moment he encountered something outside his scope of influence he had to reach for a Calming Draught. 

Severus still remembered the day Narcissa went into labour and the healers and midwives had slammed the doors of the birthing room in Lucius’ face. She was in there for about 16 hours and Lucius hadn’t stopped pacing for a single minute of those 16 hours. Severus, who had been called and then forced to sit in the parlour the elder Malfoy was terrorising, got tired just watching him. 

He was on the verge of petrifying Lucius by the time he was finally allowed in. Lucius had run in there so fast the healers probably thought he Apparated. The poor woman had turned to Severus in bewilderment, confessing that she had not seen a father quite that excited for the birth of his child in her entire career.

Severus had no answer for her. He just heaved a tired sigh and promised to hex Lucius next time Narcissa got pregnant. The healer seriously thanked him.

So Severus supposed he should not have been so surprised that Lucius was less than composed upon finding out the Godfather of his son suddenly had a child. He probably wanted to make sure the boy still had all of his limbs. 

“Hoooooo!!!” Said boy was currently trying to feed his carrot stick to the owls. They had hopped over to the high chair Harry was currently in and were eyeing his fingers more than the orange vegetable they held. 

Harry didn’t seem to notice, so maybe Lucius’ concern was at least somewhat justified. 

“Bird?” Harry asked when he noticed Severus looking at him.

“They are owls.”

“Aools!” 

“Close enough.”

Said owls clearly didn’t mind the attention. They hooted at Harry, who was having a great time trying to hoot back. They even let him stroke their feathers a bit. One actually tried to groom him, an action that had Harry trying to hug it. The owl flapped its wings for balance but didn’t hop out of his hold. Harry squealed in delight.

Severus suddenly foresaw a lot of pleading for a pet in his future.

In the end he just sighed and dismissed the owls. After putting a stasis charm on the pot of stew he was making he bundled up the brat in some warm clothes and stepped out. He made sure there were no Muggles milling around before he raised his wand.

There was a good reason why Lucius had called the Knight Bus monstrous, Wizarding elitism aside. The violently purple bus was an eyesore in and of itself, and when it appeared out of bloody nowhere with an ear-splitting BANG it was enough to make Severus jump straight out of his boots.

“Good day, sir!” An elderly conductor with coke-bottle glasses stepped out to greet him, “My name is Ernie Prang and I’ll be your driver today. Where would you like to go today, sir?”

“Wiltshire,” Severus said curtly, practically elbowing Ernie out of the way, “As close to the Malfoy Manor as you can get me.”

Ernie’s eyes widened behind his glasses, darted towards Harry for a moment, then narrowed as they fell back to Severus. His moustache quivered for a second as if he was going to say something disapproving but changed his mind at the last minute. In the end he just nodded decisively and returned to the driver’s seat.

“Next stop, Wiltshire!” He announced and shoved down the handbrake. The bus seemed to rear back as if it were a horse and with another BANG sped off. Severus barely had enough time to grab onto the hand-hold above his head before he was thrown backwards head over heels.

Bloody bus and bloody Malfoys. At least Harry was enjoying it, being perfectly ignorant of the danger of being dropped on his head. The bus swivered wildly and Harry shrieked in delight. Straight into Severus’ ear.

It would be a long ride to Wiltshire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transitional chapter. Not much action but a lot of necessary groundwork. Also the letters were supposed to be written with a calligraphy font that AO3 doesn't support, and the letters lost a lot of character with it, so pretend it's written in Edwardian Script ITC for Lucius, French Script MT for Narcissa, and Brush Script STD for 'Moira'. Severus' handwriting would be something like Rage Italic, with extra Italic.
> 
> So good news: Harry and Draco meet in the next chapter. Bad news: It's gonna be a while, real life is chewing me out.


	7. 1981: Only Truth a Liar Ever Told

By the time the damnable bus ride was over, Severus' expression was frightening enough to make a Boggart hide under its bed and cry. Ernie barely dared to stutter out a ticket price before he scampered behind the driver's seat without even accepting the ten sickles Severus handed him.

Harry didn't seem to notice.

The damnable brat was babbling in that baby talk so fast Severus couldn't discern a single word of English, if there even was one. The fact that Severus was on the brink of setting something on fire, possibly with Fiendfyre, didn't bother him one whit. 

So Severus just let him babble while he stalked through the ridiculously long gravel driveway, towards the iron-wrought gates. As Lucius promised in his letter, with the wards lowered the gates let him pass through as if they were an illusion. It surprised Harry enough to make him go quiet. 

For full three seconds. 

Severus nearly dropped him when Harry all but threw himself back towards the gates with a squeal of delight. Before he could reprimand the brat he heard a long wail, high yet deep, halfway between a mournful howl and a battle cry. It sent shivers up his spine and terror down his throat. Severus slowly turned around, as if expecting Voldemort to be behind him.

Oh, no. It wasn't Voldemort. It was something almost _worse._

There was a demon standing on the hedge in all its white, resplendent glory, looking at them the same way its owner looked at Muggles.

Harry, oblivious to the danger they were in, raised his hands and made grabby motions with his hands towards the white peacock. It looked at them with a gimlet eye and a tilted head, likely planning the perfect angle at which to strike so it could tear out their throats.

Severus was unfortunately familiar with the monsters Lucius insisted on keeping as pets. The first time he'd visited the Malfoy Manor he'd been enchanted with them, looking at them strutting about the yard with the elegance aristocratic ladies trained their entire lives to achieve. One had even raised its tail and spread it out into a fan. Severus had seen nothing like it before in his entire life.

So of course the feathery demon took advantage of his distraction to attack him. He'd screamed higher than a banshee and high-tailed it out of there but the demon _followed_. Lucius spilled wine all over his suit when he heard him scream and ran full tilt, expecting to find him engaged in a battle-royale with an entire squad of Aurors.

Instead he found Severus running for his life from a pissed-off peacock. When he screamed for Lucius to help him, to control his bloody bird, Lucius had the gall to burst into laughter so hard he was unable to speak. Severus had to dive through the open window before the peacock stopped chasing him.

Those things were _evil_ , and that was coming from a former Death Eater.

And now one was staring at them. Poised to strike.

Severus slowly shifted Harry's weight to his left arm and drew his wand out, never once breaking eye contact. If the damnable beast wanted to attack him, he would be ready for it this time. The bird let out that horrible sound again and raised its wings threateningly. The curse was on the tip of his tongue, his wand twitched with the beginning of-

“Severus, please stop picking on my peacock.”

The unimpressed tone of Lucius Malfoy was enough to startle both Severus and the peacock out of their respective threat displays. The Malfoy heir stood on the gravel path with his arms crossed, glaring at them both like they were his errant children. Chastened, Severus lowered his wand and the peacock did the same with its wings.

But then Lucius' eyes fell on Harry and Severus could swear he _melted_. He stepped forward to take Harry from Severus then froze halfway there, suddenly remembering his manners. Severus could barely believe his eyes as he watched Lucius _I'm-The-Most-Important-Person-In-This-Room-You-Peasant_ Malfoy wage battle between being a picture of aristocratic decorum and really, _really_ wanting to hold that baby.

In the end, decorum lost but not without negotiating a treaty. Lucius turned to Severus with a hopeful smile and with his hands still up. “Good to see you, Severus. May I?” 

Severus blinked. 

Harry, the brave fool that he was, leaned forward and reached for Lucius. Consent granted, Lucius smiled brilliantly and took Harry onto his own hip.

“So, this is the famed Herodion Prince?” Lucius said, playfully tickling Harry's belly. “And I suppose this is where the 'Brontes' part came from?” he asked curiously, lifting the curly fringe of hair partially obscuring the lightning 'birthmark'.

“I would assume so, yes,” Severus said, one wary eye still on the demon looking at them from the hedge. 

“Well, good to see he is still in one piece. I'd worried.”

“Your faith in my abilities is astounding,” Severus said sarcastically.

Lucius glared at him. “It is not your abilities which I doubt. The world has gone to the _dogs_ since the Dark Lord's death. The Ministry is in shambles, Aurors are at every corner and respectable witches and wizards are being thrown into Azkaban without so much as a by your leave.”

He breathed deeply to calm down, but it did little good. “Narcissa thinks Madam Prince's plan was horribly reckless, but it was likely the best she could do under the circumstances. I've seen the Prophet. 'Killed while avoiding capture' they said, as if they hadn't slaughtered her on sight. The poor woman was probably trying to buy time for her son to get away, even if the cost of it had been her life.”

Severus didn't bother to hide his grimace. Suddenly Lucius' panic seemed a lot more justified. Merlin only knew what state they expected them to arrive in.

“Now, I believe it is a matter best discussed somewhere warm. Satin,” Lucius turned to the still perching peacock with a stern look, “Stay.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and leisurely walked back. Severus fell into step behind him, halfway turned to make sure the bloody bird didn't follow them.

Meanwhile, Harry was fascinated with Lucius' hair and kept trying to grab onto his ponytail and the black bow that tied it, but Lucius was avoiding his grabby hands just as expertly as Isobel did. Severus, who was likely to go bald at the rate Harry yanked his hair, spent the entire walk to the manor watching them and trying to figure out just how he did it.

It was still a mystery by the time they reached the front doors. 

Lucius led the way through the front doors and into an opulent drawing room. Narcissa sat in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, entertaining her son by conjuring Snidgets made of colourful lights. The magical birds flitted around Draco playfully and the young Malfoy was all but falling over himself in his tries to catch one of them.

When she heard their footsteps on the marble floors she looked up with an admonishing look. “So the prodigal son returns! And here we were worried you'd forgotten about us. What state of affairs could have kept you from letting us know you've still a head on your shoulders?”

“The lack of an owl, for a start,” Severus said tartly, “And the fact that I woke up one morning with a basket full of infant on my doorstep.”

“A rather poor excuse, I think you'll agree, considering we certainly know more of infants than you. You should have come to us the moment you were awake enough to read that letter,” she scolded Severus even as she picked up her own infant and brought him closer to her husband. 

Snidgets forgotten, Draco stuffed his fingers into his mouth and curiously observed the newcomer in his father's arms. Harry, who had likely never seen anyone his own age, was likewise fascinated. 

“Baba?” he asked when they were face to face.

“Bab,” Draco said around his fingers.

“Hewy.”

“Daco.”

“Smol,” Harry told him and grabbed Draco's hand, the one that wasn't currently in his mouth.

“Yoo smol,” Draco answered him and let Harry hold his hand.

Narcissa silently laughed at their exchange. Lucius looked like he was in seventh heaven. Severus was just confused.

But Draco quickly got tired of holding hands. He extracted his fingers from Harry's grasp and poked him in the cheek. When the only reaction Harry had was to look confused he did it again. Then again. Harry finally got the hint and poked Draco in the belly. 

Things soon escalated from there.

Five minutes later they were playing Catch, tripping and bumbling around the armchairs, trying to simultaneously catch and run away from each other. Severus, still keenly remembering Harry running full-tilt into a wall, had been about to stop them before Narcissa assured him they had cushioning charms on almost everything and a protective wall around the fireplace. 

“So,” Narcissa said, looking over the rim of her delicate china cup at Severus, “Tell us what you know.”

“About what?” Severus asked, “The Dark Lord's fall, my deceased cousin's half-cocked plan, current political affairs or the latest iteration of the Blood Replenishing potion?”

“Curb your cheek, little boy,” Narcissa admonished him warmly, “You know what I mean. Leave the politics to us old foxes, and share the tale of how this one came to you.”

“You're only five years older than me, that hardly makes you old.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere except out of this conversation. Now talk.”

Severus turned to Lucius for help, but the damnable man was cheerfully ignoring them, his eyes never leaving Harry and Draco. So he turned back to Narcissa, who was looking at him with one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in expectation.

Bloody Malfoys.

“I found him on my doorstep the day after the trial, in a basket with the letter I sent you on top,” he paused, mentally reviewing the plan, “I thought it was a trap at first, but the letter did have the remnants of a Bloodtracker spell, so I decided to check if my cousin really wrote it. I went to Gringotts to ask if they have something with Moira Prince's handwriting, and I got this.”

He pulled out the copy of her order and passed it to Narcissa. She scanned the words quickly, frowning as she did. She wordlessly passed it along to Lucius, who did the same.

“Dated almost exactly two years ago,” Narcissa commented, still frowning, “Likely around the same date she found out she was pregnant. And this letter is addressed to someone supposedly related to her- _lover._ Severus, I think-”

“I wasn't supposed to know he existed, much less have him delivered to my doorstep,” Severus finished her sentence, “I figured that out myself. Unfortunately for Madam Prince, the Bloodtracker spell was specified to find the closest relative, no matter which side they were from. Apparently, this Brontes either didn't have siblings or they died before the spell was activated, since I would be… a second cousin?”

“First cousin once removed,” Lucius chimed in.

“Yes, that,” Severus said, “It's not exactly a close relation either way. If I was the only option-”

“The others likely suffered the same fate as Madam Prince,” Narcissa finished for him. “Honestly, I don't know what in the world she was thinking. It's only through sheer dumb _luck_ that the poor boy is even alive!”

“Cissy, you know what's going on out there,” Lucius turned to her in disapproval, “Had it not been for Severus' quick thinking, we might have been in the same position.”

“Well I like to think we would have thought of a better plan for Draco than leaving him in a basket with a letter, to be found by people we have never even met!”

“Yes, but Madam Prince doesn't have our resources. But that is not the reason she would go to these lengths to hide him,” Lucius frowned, setting his cup down grimly, “Think about it. She was both unmarried and obviously wary of introducing her lover. And Herodion wasn't born yesterday, yet we've never even heard a rumour she was courting. There is only one reason why she would hide this.”

Narcissa caught onto Lucius' reasoning faster than Severus did. “You think this Brontes was… of ill-bred stock?” she held her fingers in front of her lips, her voice a scandalised whisper.

Severus scoffed. “She couldn't even stand me, do you really think she would roll between the sheets with anyone who didn't have a family tree reaching back at least three centuries?”

“Well there aren't many of us with those qualifications around anymore, for a start,” Lucius sighed, “And you cannot always choose who you fall in love with. No matter how ashamed Madam Prince was, she'd made her choices. I would say she would have to live with them, but I think it would be in poor taste.”

Narcissa sighed. She looked down into her cup at the dregs of tea leaves, perhaps trying to divine the answer to her troubles, or perhaps just lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her voice was sombre. “A child of a Death Eater and a child of impure blood, now an orphan. A rather cruel hand to be dealt in life, especially in these times.”

“...that's actually what I was hoping to discuss with you,” Severus said cautiously. That wasn't the conclusion he had wanted them to come to, but he couldn't exactly correct them. He wasn't supposed to know any more than they did. “I was wondering if you would… Do me a favour.”

They both perked up at the word 'favour'. Severus so rarely asked for anything of them, despite their encouragement, and when he did it was always important. Severus steeled himself.

“How would I go about adopting him?”

They looked shocked at his question, then exchanged a quick glance.

“Severus, are you certain you wish to do this?” Lucius asked cautiously, “While wanting to help your cousin is certainly admirable, it is no easy undertaking.”

“So I've been told. Multiple times. I am still prepared to do it,” Severus said with conviction, “You're hardly the first ones to ask me that question. What do you think I've been doing this past week?”

“But Severus, where will you live?” Narcissa asked.

Severus resolutely didn't squirm at that one. He already knew what she would say. “Spinner's End, and before you say anything I can assure it's the safest place for him to be. Nobody would even think to look for either of us in a Muggle neighbourhood.”

Narcissa grimaced in horror. While she'd never been to Severus' childhood home, if it could even be considered a home and not just a dilapidated house, she knew enough about it too abhor it. But in the light of recent events she couldn't deny that Severus was right: The Wizarding world was in chaos, and it was only though Dumbledore's clemency that they had escaped the worst of it. 

But that peace would only last as long as they didn't poke the hornet's nest. Severus had to legitimize Harry as his nephew before anybody decided to sniff around him and discover that things were not adding up. 

“I've already cleaned, set up a room and bought some clothes for him. The mortgage has been paid off, and until I find a job I have some money saved up. It will do until I've found something more suitable, or at least until people stop looking at my forearm suspiciously.”

Those were the correct words to make any arguments they could voice die in their mouths. Lucius rubbed his own forearm, where the Dark Mark rested, now just a faint outline, but still visible. Still damning.

If there was one thing Lucius excelled at, it was landing on his feet no matter the height he was thrown from. It wouldn't have surprised Severus if he managed to avoid Azkaban all on his own, but it would have taken innumerable bribes, favours and pulled strings. Compared to that, their freedom had been offered on a silver platter. 

The way they saw it, they owed Severus a favour. Severus wouldn't be a Slytherin if he didn't use it.

“I am not letting anyone of my family live through what I did,” he glared at them both, knowing they knew what his childhood was like. It stunned them into silence once more. “His blood is no more tainted than mine. I think it would be rather suitable if I took him, don't you? The only question is: will you help me?”

To Lucius' and Narcissa's credit, they didn't stay stunned for long. They looked at each other and started a discussion spoken exclusively in eyebrow movements. It went on for almost a full minute. Severus resolutely didn't let any of his worry show on his face, Occluding as hard as he ever did in Voldemort's presence. When he took a sip of his tea, his hand was perfectly still.

Finally, the Malfoys seemed to have come to an agreement. They shot a look at the two babies that had decided to take naps on the carpet, nodded to each other, then stood up simultaneously.

“You are in luck, Severus,” Lucius smiled at him. Or perhaps it was a smirk. “The Ministry is in absolute shambles right now, it would be almost easy to slip a full grown giant through the cracks, much less a baby. As I understand it, you were given some papers after you trial? The decree of your innocence? Have you brought them with you?”

Of course he did. He reached into his robes and handed them over to Lucius. He scanned the text quickly and practically lit up with joy at Dumbledore's signature at the bottom. He rolled it up along with Moira Prince's order. 

“Excellent! We have everything we need to get this done today.”

“Today?” Severus asked incredulously, “Isn't this usually a long process?”

“Usually, yes, but you are his blood relative and you have Dumbledore's stamp of approval,” Lucius' smile turned mischievous, “There is only one other thing we need.”

“And that would be…?” Severus asked suspiciously.

“Godparents, of course,” Narcissa chimed in with an equally mischievous smile. “If you write us down as Godparents I might just forget I was ever cross with you for not visiting sooner.”

It was Severus' turn to be shocked speechless. They were _volunteering_ to be Harry's Godparents? But… “You want to-? Why?”

Again, they exchanged a look he couldn't hope to decipher without Legillimency. “Well, he's your cousin, no? You said it yourself: his blood is no more tainted than yours, and we've never turned you away, have we? We made you Draco's Godfather because we knew that no matter what happened to us in this war you would protect him. Allow us to do the same.” 

Narcissa smiled down at him. “No matter who his father was, he is still of a prominent House. Besides, the poor dear has already gotten a rough start in life, the least we could do is stack the odds in his favour. Don't you agree?”

Severus did agree, but he hadn't dared to hope he wouldn't be the only one stacking the odds. That Lucius and Narcissa would look past their prejudices that had been all but beaten into their heads for him. That they would help him because they wanted to, because they trusted him.

He didn't think he could ever get used to that feeling.

Finally, he managed a small smile. “If you insist.”

“Wonderful!” Lucius crowed in delight, then bent down to gently lift Harry into his arms. “Well, come along then. All you have to do is stay silent, hand in the paperwork and sign a few things, and we'll be out of there in time for dinner!”

Severus looked at him, full of scepticism, as Lucius all but flounced off towards the Floo. 

“Don't look so worried, Severus,” Narcissa patted him on the arm, smiling fondly, “If there is anyone who can do this, it's my husband. And you know how much he loves children, you cannot tell me you were surprised he leapt at the chance to get another one, even if he's not technically ours.”

Ah, yes… That hadn't quite crossed his mind.

“Are you certain the healers can't do anything?” he asked, his voice pensive. 

She smiled at him sadly. “They said it's a miracle I was able to have Draco. That my Black heritage was to blame. They were too stubborn and set in their ways, believing marrying your siblings was better than marrying someone of lower social standing. And now I'm paying the price.”

He remembered. He'd been summoned one day, shortly after Draco's birth, to the manor only to find Narcissa in tears and Lucius asking him something nonsensical about healing potions. It took him awhile to get the full story out of them, and it hadn't been a pretty one.

Narcissa couldn't have any more children.

And there wasn't anything anyone could do.

“I'm sorry,” he said even though he'd said it before. It never sounded like it was enough.

“Oh, I've made peace with it,” Narcissa waved her hand in faked dismissal. Then she smirked. “That's why we're going to kidnap and spoil yours any chance we get.”

Severus ignored the shivers that went down his spine at those words.

“Severus, stop seducing my wife and get over here,” Lucius drawled from the Floo, causing Severus to glare at him and Narcissa to laugh.

“Go on,” Narcissa said behind her hand, still laughing, “I'll have the elves prepare something to celebrate.”

“I sincerely doubt even Lucius can officialise an adoption in one afternoon.”

Narcissa smirked at him knowingly as he followed Lucius through the Floo.

* * *

Severus was wrong.

Apparently, it was entirely possible to finalise an adoption within one afternoon if you signed Lucius Bloody Malfoy as a Godfather, and said Lucius Bloody Malfoy was very generous in bribing tired and frazzled officials, and threatening those that thought themselves 'above' such things.

Much like his trial, all Severus was required to do was sit there and keep quiet. When Lucius brought him a hideously thick stack of parchment he was required to write his name and everything he knew about Harry on pretty much all of them. He had to leave at least half of those spaces blank because he simply didn't _have_ that information. Medical file? History of illness? Allergies? Injuries? 

He had a feeling writing down 'lightning shaped wound on forehead from a rebound Killing Curse' would not go over well. 

Luckily Lucius explained the circumstances to the Magical Family and Adoption Services, and the minute he said 'war orphan' and 'recently murdered mother' - without mentioning on which side of the war she'd been - they all nodded in understanding. 

Unfortunately, theirs was far from a unique case. At that point they had an exact procedure for exactly those cases, and it was only a matter of minutes to pull out all the necessary paperwork.

Near the end of the whole debacle they actually ushered in a healer to examine Harry. She was a young woman, younger than Severus even, and clearly just an apprentice. She apologised for that as she waved her wand over Harry, explaining that all the healers were busy mitigating the damage of the war. Even she was busy tending to the patients, but luckily she'd been near the Floo when the officials firecalled St. Mungo's and decided she could spare a few minutes.

She pronounced Harry a perfectly healthy baby, reaching all the correct milestones for his age and had, as far as she could tell, no signs of trauma.

Severus hoped she was right.

Dumbledore's papers had been all the further incentive they needed to give their stamp of approval and shake his hand in congratulations. Five tedious hours later Severus and Lucius were returning to the Malfoy Manor, official guardianship papers in Severus' hands, and a sleeping baby in Lucius'.

Severus was… still reeling. And resolutely not thinking about the similarities between Lucius and Dumbledore because he had to keep _some_ peace of mind in this entire mess.

He was now the official guardian of one Herodion Brontes Prince. For all intents and purposes, Harry James Potter was dead. Severus remembered reading that the funeral was set somewhere around the end of November. 

He wondered who was even left to organise it.

Narcissa welcomed them with cake and champagne, taking Harry and putting him down in the crib next to Draco. Lucius commanded the elves to prepare a bedroom for him, no you're not going anywhere Severus, especially not with a baby, you're staying the night.

So that was how he found himself sullenly sitting on the sofa, glaring at his flute of champagne, while Lucius and Narcissa discussed how to get him access to the Prince vault. 

He should have probably been more involved with that. But so much had happened today he was just bloody exhausted. 

And hungry. He thought longingly of the stew he'd left on the stove under preservation charms. Bloody Malfoys, getting into a fit over nothing and making him miss his lunch. Come to think of it, he hadn't fed Harry either, which probably meant the brat was going to wake up in the middle of the night. 

Severus wondered if he could pawn it off to the elves, but he had a feeling Harry would have some objections to that. He didn't seem to be afraid of anything so far, be it strangers or strange places but waking up in a strange place and having a house elf trying to feed him in the middle of the night would definitely be pushing it. If they were staying it would probably be better if Severus took Harry to sleep with him.

He told as much to Lucius and Narcissa, to which they agreed. And said something about not getting attached to the help, but that was an argument Severus was too exhausted to revisit. 

“Severus, your current dwelling has a fireplace, right?” Lucius asked out of nowhere, startling Severus out of his thoughts.

“It does.”

“Good, then we can hook it up to the Floo Network. You will need it if you insist on living in the Muggle world.”

“Why would I go through all that trouble when I could easily Apparate?” 

“Haven't you been listening to a word I said?” Lucius pursed his lips in disapproval, “Infants handle Apparition very badly. Even adults get nauseous the first time the Apparate, and young children oftentimes become both hyperactive and disoriented, possibly even sick.”

Severus suddenly remembered Apparating from Godric's Hollow to escape Hagrid and Harry running full force into a wall right after. Well at least now he had an explanation. 

“What makes you think I would take him with me to the Wizarding World?”

“Severus, you cannot be serious,” Narcissa said, “The boy is a wizard, you cannot raise him like a Mudblood!”

Severus glared at her. “I’ll ask you not to use that word. And I didn’t mean I would raise him ignorant of magic, just that I’m going to keep him out of the Wizarding World at least until the dust has settled. There is a significantly lesser chance of me being mobbed in the Muggle world.”

They both looked like they’d bitten into a lemon, their distaste of Muggles warring with their wish for safety. 

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to come live here with us?” Lucius asked plaintively, “It’s not like we don't have enough space, the wards around the estate are top notch and if would be good for both Draco and Herodion to have someone their age to play with.”

“You know the answer to that question,” Severus said evenly. Even if the wards in the attic weren’t as crucial to Harry’s protection Severus was far too prideful to accept that offer as long as he had the means to manage for himself.

Lucius knew that, so he just sighed in defeat. “Alright. But you do need to install a Floo at some point, if you will be staying there for a significant amount of time.”

“Perhaps at some point. We may not stay there for long.” That was a lie, Severus had enough trouble doing the protective ritual once, he was not going to attempt it again. Until Harry was old enough to go to Hogwarts and enjoy the protection of its ancient wards, Spinner’s End would have to do.

The Malfoys didn’t need to know that though.

“Now that everything is settled,” Narcissa said brightly and served herself some more cake, “I simply must exercise my rights as his Godmother and take him shopping.”

“Excuse me?” Severus startled. 

“What did you think a Godmother did?” Narcissa smirked indulgently at him. “I take him away for a few hours, spoil him rotten, and then return him to you to fix.”

“Why don’t you do that with your own son?”

“Oh I already do, but now I get to do it twice as much!” Narcissa was smiling in a way Severus knew from unfortunate personal experience meant he wasn’t going to win that argument.

Lucius patted his shoulder in sympathy. “At least she’s not making you go with her. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get out of it.”

Severus sighed and took a sip of his champagne. And to think, he had just signed himself up for at least sixteen years of it. 

_Bloody Malfoys._ This time, the thought was almost fond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely hate this chapter, but I rewrote it three times and I'm fucking tired of it. I wasn't sure how to show to which degree the Malfoy's racism ran and how much they would try to hold their tongues in Severus' company, and yet show that they are human and they can be taught. There are at least three scenes I cut out entirely which were very explanatory but just didn't fit into the flow of the story. Maybe they'll crop up in another setting, I dunno, I just want to move on at this point.
> 
> Next chapter we're finally moving past 1981. We'll be seeing a bit more of Harry and Alyssa.
> 
> (The title is from a Tumblr prompt: "The only truth a liar ever told was that lies weren't going to save you.")


	8. 1983: How Much Patience You Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brief allusion to suicide.
> 
> EDIT: So, I'm an idiot. I just now noticed I've accidentally posted the second-to-last revision of this chapter instead of the actual clean version. There's no major changes, but still enough to make you do a double-take if you've read the previous version. Sorry bout that.

The transition straight from bachelorhood to parenthood was always… an adjustment, especially when it came with no prior warning. 

Severus Snape could attest to that personally.

That Halloween night as he stood in Godric's Hollow, it had been little more than a stray impulse that made him pick up a crying baby from its crib, just a few feet away from its mother's corpse. A moment of sympathy, when he realised that there was another human being just as pained by the events that had transpired around them.

A stray impulse, a moment of sympathy. Severus wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't acted upon that impulse, if he had left Lily's child for Hagrid to find. Would he have been thrown into Azkaban? Or would have Dumbledore swooped in and saved him either way? Would he have accepted the teaching position, not wanting it but not knowing what else to make of himself? Or would he have decided to sod it all and escaped to America, in a desperate hope that maybe that was exactly what Regulus had done? Maybe he would have acted on his brash words and cast _Sectumsempra_ at his own throat, when there was nothing left for him in this world.

Either way, he thought as he listened to the patter of small feet approaching his door, he probably wouldn't have had to wake up at the crack of dawn to an excited toddler jumping straight onto his stomach.

“Uncle Sev!” Harry crowed in delight when he saw Severus awake. The fact that he was glaring at him with murder in his eyes was completely ignored. “Wake up, wake up! We're going to the zoo today!!!”

Yes, unfortunately they really were. Because today was the thirteenth of July, and according to the official paperwork, it was Herodion Prince's birthday. And Severus had been stupid enough to say yes when Harry had looked at him with wide eyes and a hopeful smile and asked if they could go to the zoo for his birthday. 

And just like everything else Severus had done with his life, he lived to regret that too.

“You do realise it's-” Severus glared at the clock on his nightstand, “-not even five in the morning?”

“You said we're goin' to the zoo today,” Harry said, still straddling Severus' waist and bouncing like an excited puppy, “And now is today!”

Severus let his head fall back on the pillow and just threw his arm over his eyes. Why did he think having a child was a good idea again?

Oh right. He hadn't. And he did it anyway, because he was obviously an idiot.

“Harry, most zoos don't even open until ten or later,” he muttered without removing his arm, “Even if we left right this second we would just face the closed gates.”

“They won't let us in?!” Harry stopped bouncing in horror at those words.

“They will if we show up when they're open,” Severus said with a sleepy mumble, “Which is later. Go back to sleep, Harry.”

“I can't. I got up,” Harry told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Severus just sighed, then propped himself up on his elbows with great resignation to glare at the brat some more.

Unfortunately, two years of having that blood chilling glare directed at him at least once a day had turned Harry immune to its effects. Instead of trembling in fear and running off back to bed like Severus told him to, Harry just smiled down at him with a perfectly innocent expression.

But in the two years he had been Harry's guardian he had learned to pick his battles, and on this day Harry had a distinct advantage. Recognising that this was one he wasn't going to win, Severus capitulated with an absolute minimal amount of grace.

Which is to say he wrapped his arms around Harry, flipped him and walked to the bathroom with an upside-down toddler in his arms.

Harry's only reaction was to shriek in delight, which only proved he was a weird and unnatural child. 

“Again! Again!” he demanded when Severus set him down on the bathmat. 

“After you brush your teeth,” Severus pulled a small stool from under the sink and Harry eagerly hopped onto it. He'd only just learned how to brush his own teeth and he still went about it the same way Severus brewed the most sensitive potions. He carefully unscrewed the tube of toothpaste, squeezed a dollop onto his toothbrush like he was measuring the drops of morning dew needed for an Animagus potion, and upon completing the process waited for Severus to do it as well.

For some reason Harry refused to brush his teeth without Severus doing the same. Severus himself had no idea why and he hadn't had any luck extracting an explanation from the toddler, so he just brushed his teeth at the same time Harry did. At least he usually didn't insist on doing it at 5 AM.

Once their morning ablutions were done Severus carried Harry upside-down to his room to play while he prepared breakfast. And coffee. He usually preferred tea but there was no way he could deal with a hyperactive toddler this early in the morning on just tea. 

Isobel, who was accustomed to working the midnight shift at least a few times a month, had a stovetop espresso maker that made coffee strong enough to give even the most potent Invigoration Draught a run for its money. Not to mention it was actually cheaper in the long run, so when Severus expressed his interest she'd gifted him one for his birthday.

He made good use of it now, setting it on the stove along with a pot of milk while he spread butter and apricot jam on slices of bread. By the time he was cutting the crusts off two of the sandwiches the coffee was done.

“Harry, breakfast!” he yelled in the direction of the staircase.

Sure enough, Harry ran down to the kitchen so fast Severus wondered if he actually managed flying. He climbed onto the chair that had several of Severus' thicker tomes under the cushion and bit into his sandwiches like he hadn't seen food in a week.

“If you choke to death we're not going to the zoo,” Severus remarked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I'm not!” Harry protested, but he did slow down when he got to the other sandwich. “'hen're 'e goin'?”

“Swallow your food before you attempt to speak.”

Harry did so. “When are we going?”

“Not before eight. First we need to get dressed and pick up Alyssa, and our train leaves at 8:30,” Severus paused to take a bite of his own sandwich. “Pack some toys for the train ride, it will be lengthy.”

“Leng-thee?”

“Lengthy. It means it will last long.”

“Why can't we floo?” 

“Because we can only use the Floo through fireplaces that are connected to other Floos,” Severus explained. “Speaking of which, Lucius will be bringing Draco this afternoon, and we will be going over to the manor on Friday.”

“To see Draco?” Harry bounced in excitement at the news. Then he paused. “Why Draco can't come?”

“Because his parents won't allow it.” Severus told him. Lucius had almost been persuaded, as he was quite fond of exotic animals, but all Narcissa had to know about it was that there would be crowds of Muggles to put her foot down. “So you'll just have to tell him about it when you see him.”

Harry pouted at that but didn't argue, thankfully. Instead he switched to asking about all the animals they would see, whether they had lions and giraffes and zebras and gazelles, all the animals he had seen in a nature documentary with Alyssa.

Severus had never gotten around to replacing the telly so he must have seen it when he was with Isobel. Harry was over at her place almost as much as he was at home, since they were both too young for Primary yet and there was no Kindergarten anywhere close to Spinner's End. Isobel's mother, Agnes, agreed to watch Harry for him for a few hours a day he needed to brew.

Despite Lucius' best efforts, the goblins at Gringotts refused to give Severus the key to the Prince vault due to Moira Prince's order. But he had managed to convince them to withdraw a monthly allowance, to cover some of the costs of taking care of a child. Still, it didn't cover everything so Severus had to get a job. 

But a letter of recommendation from Lucius Malfoy opened a lot of doors, and the owner of the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, Roger Sellick, was looking for a potioneer. When Severus told him he had his own lab and the only thing Sellick would have to provide was raw ingredients he was hired on the spot.

The job, along with the stipend, mostly covered their expenses, but Severus wanted a bit more to put aside in case of a rainy day. The solution had, rather unexpectedly, come from Agnes. 

To combat her Alzheimer Severus had brewed a modified version of the Memory Potion, one that would affect the brain directly without needing a magical core to interact with. A few teaspoons in her morning tea had excellent effects, and she recommended he sell the potion to a Muggle shop that sold natural remedies. Agnes had put in a good word for him, since one of the owners was her friend from Bridge Club, and a lot of his potions found their way onto the shelves. 

_Nepotism will really get you everywhere,_ Severus mused absently as he sipped his coffee.

Those musings were cut short when he heard the doorbell ring. Severus stared in bewilderment. It was too early for even the post to arrive, and if it was some overzealous salesman Severus would _not_ be held responsible for his actions.

His face twisted into its usual terrifying frown as he all but stomped over to the door. He swung it open abruptly, ready to chew and spit out whatever unfortunate soul found its way to his front door.

So _of course_ the only other person immune to his glare would be the one ringing his doorbell.

“Hi Mr. Snape!” Alyssa Fisher greeted him eagerly, indecently bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the hour, her hair in pigtails and a little tam o' shanter on her head. “I'm all ready to go!”

“Do you not realize what time it is?” Severus asked her balefully. 

She just nodded with a brilliant smile on her face. “Yeah, mum said we'll go to your house first thing in the morning to catch the train in time! So I packed my bag last night and got up _first thing in the morning!”_ She beamed at him proudly. 

Severus, who was still wearing his grey sleep shirt and black sweatpants with his hair resembling a rat's nest, looked at her in disbelief, wondering if he'd drank too much coffee to just go back to bed and pretend he didn't know anyone whose years didn't reach double digits. 

“Does your mother know you're here?” he finally thought to ask.

“Of course! She's the one who said to come first thing in the morning!”

So that meant 'no'. Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation but he did step aside to let her in. She all but bounced in and went straight into the kitchen, then greeted Harry with an enthusiastic hug, almost making him spill his cup of milk, and climbed up onto Severus' chair. 

“Have you eaten breakfast already?” Severus asked her suspiciously.

“I packed some snacks!”

That was also a 'no' then. Severus didn't even bother arguing at that point, he just pulled a jar of blueberry jam from the fridge and set about making another batch of sandwiches as Harry and Alyssa excitedly babbled about their upcoming trip. He absently checked if the cake he'd made yesterday had set and decided it would be ready by the time they came back.

He cut the crusts off Alyssa's sandwiches as well but left them on her plate. She liked to dip them in milk like they were biscuits, but she was an even weirder child than Harry. He set the plate in front of her and went out to the hall, where the phone stood mounted on the wall.

He dialled a familiar number and leaned against the wall as he waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” finally, a sleepy voice answered.

“Hello Isobel,” Severus greeted, “Are you by any chance aware that your daughter is at my house?”

“What?!” she did not sound sleepy any longer. “Please hold on, Severus.”

Severus waited as she presumably went to check Alyssa's room. Upon ascertaining it was indeed empty of both her daughter and her backpack she came back on the line none too happy.

“I'm going to kill her,” she growled into the phone.

“A capital idea,” Severus agreed, “If you start digging the grave now it will be just deep enough when we return from the zoo.”

“Oh God, I almost forgot that's today,” Isobel groaned, “She was so excited to go I could barely get her to go to sleep yesterday, so I told her we would come-”

“'First thing in the morning', yes. She made sure to emphasise that.”

“I'm so sorry, Severus. I didn't think she was going to take it _literally_.”

“If it's any consolation, Harry got up at the crack of dawn to wake me up and inform me that it's 'today' already.”

“So they're in cahoots, wonderful,” Isobel sighed, “I have half a mind to forbid her from going. Leaving the house like that without telling anyone, God only knows what she was thinking. Thank you for calling me Severus, I would have lost my mind if I'd just found her bed empty.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Severus would have been prepared to cast Unforgivables if he'd found himself in the same situation. At least Alyssa had the benefit of not being hunted by Dark wizards. 

“Put her on the phone, please,” Isobel finally said, “I need to have a word with her.”

Severus didn't need to be told twice.

“Alyssa,” he called towards the kitchen, waving the receiver when she looked up. “Your mother wants to talk to you.”

It was rather clear that Alyssa didn't think she'd done anything wrong, since her only reaction was to shove the rest of the sandwich into her mouth and bounce over to the phone. Mouth still full, she continued babbling to her mother where she and Harry had left off.

Figuring they'd be at it for a while, Severus turned to Harry. “Come on, you need to get dressed.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Harry didn't argue. He hopped down from the chair and took Severus' hand, letting himself be led upstairs into his room. Normally Severus had to fight tooth and nail to get the brat dressed in the morning and into his pyjamas in the evening. It seemed the zoo trip had him on his best behaviour, at least. 

He briefly looked like he might protest when Severus insisted he wear a pull-up but he let Severus put it on him nonetheless. Harry mostly didn't wear them to bed anymore, but he tended to have accidents when he was overly excited, and today's trip most definitely counted. Severus made a mental note to pack a few spares into his own bag.

He was just helping Harry into his overalls when Alyssa came up, a lot more worried than she was when Severus handed her the phone receiver.

“Mum is mad at me,” she started nervously, “She said I can come to the zoo only if you still let me go.”

Harry gasped in outrage but Severus stopped him before he could say anything.

“What exactly did she tell you?” he asked Alyssa instead. 

“She said because I didn't tell her I was coming here I was bad, and you maybe don't want to take me with you,” Alyssa told him morosely, “I don't get it. She said we would go in the morning. I thought she knew.”

One of the lessons Severus had to learn quick when dealing with children was that they didn't have any common sense. Not through any fault of their own, which was also rather startling to realise, but because common sense wasn't an inborn ability and had to be learned. Gradually, at that. Isobel also explained children that young had trouble understanding that not everyone around them knew what they did. They thought that if they knew something, the adults must know it as well.

Case in point: Alyssa. Isobel told her they would come over in the morning, and the little girl had followed her own logic into concluding it would be perfectly alright, expected even, to walk by herself over to Severus' house in the morning. Exactly as they had planned.

“Do you know why she's angry with you?”

“...I think because I went alone?” Alyssa hazarded a guess, “She said _we_ would come over, and I went alone.”

“Not quite,” Severus told her and he pulled a sock onto Harry's foot, “Your mother was angry because she didn't know where you'd gone, and you went without telling her. What do you reckon she would have thought, had she found your bed empty and your rucksack gone?”

“But she said last night we would come here! I thought she knew! She said!” Alyssa protested.

“'First thing in the morning' usually means when everybody is awake, not the moment the sun comes up,” Severus explained, “She meant to have breakfast with you, make sure you were prepared for the trip and that you came to us safely.”

“Oh,” Alyssa finally looked like she understood her error. 

But Severus was not done. “And I'm reasonably sure she has already had this conversation with you, but you are a young girl. There are all kinds of unsavoury men out there who could have simply grabbed your wrist and taken you with them, and we would never know where they took you. Isobel was just as scared as she was angry with you.”

“Unsavoury?”

“It means evil. Bad men who take away little girls who walk alone before the sun even rises.”

Alyssa looked at her feet and scuffed the sole of her trainer against the floor. Her face had gone slightly ashen, finally comprehending that her mother thought she had been in danger.

“Do you understand now?” Severus asked her. She nodded without looking at him. “And next time we are going somewhere, will you make sure at least one adult knows where you are and is going with you?” Another nod. “Then I see no reason why you can't come with us today.”

And just like that, the sunny smile was back on her face. She raced forward and threw her arms around Severus' neck, nearly knocking him back on his arse with her enthusiastic hug. Harry took that as his cue and joined her, which caused Severus to really topple down. He just sighed and patted them on the back. Positive reinforcement and all.

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” Severus gently pushed them away after a moment, “Now, because of your over-early rising, we still have two hours before we need to leave. You can spend that time playing and decide what to pack for the train ride.”

“Can we take Spiderman?” Harry asked excitedly. It was his favourite toy at the moment, a plastic figure of a red and blue masked man from a cartoon of the same name. 

From what Severus gathered it was the reason why he had to get up early every Saturday morning to bring Harry to the Fisher household. By now Isobel had tea prepared for him before she even heard the jingle of the theme song.

“You can, but be careful not to lose it.”

“And Padfoot? And Prongs?”

“You can bring your stuffed animals, but make sure they can fit in your backpack.”

Harry gave a little whoop of joy and went to gather his four plushies from his bed. He usually wasn't much for stuffed animals but he had an intense attachment to those. They were a small black puppy named Padfoot, a Bambi plush named Prongs, another, bigger grey puppy named Moony and a mouse Severus was fairly certain was supposed to be a cat toy named Wormy. 

It didn't escape Severus that those were the same names Harry had spent weeks asking him about when he first took him from Godric's Hollow, spoken in the same breath as 'mama' and 'daddy'. 

Honestly, until Harry had seen the toys in the store and begged him to buy them, Severus had been half convinced they were people.

Children were odd.

Of course, Harry and Alyssa forgot all about packing for the train in favour of playing with the toys _now_. Severus left them to it and went to get dressed himself. And actually dig out a hairbrush because he had washed his hair yesterday and that meant it was an absolute mess today. Honestly, Severus maybe even preferred it lank and greasy. When it was clean it stubbornly insisted on being positively _fluffy_ no matter how much he ran a comb through it _._

Isobel even remarked it looked cute like that. _Cute._ That was not an adjective that should be ascribed to adult men with blood on their hands. It was a new level of undignified. 

His bloody neighbour wouldn't hear about it though. She said just because Harry's hair looked like a bird nest, it didn't mean he had to outdo him by letting his hair look like a rat's nest or like he'd just walked a mile through the London fog. 

They lived in bloody England! Those were pretty much the only options! 

Still, Isobel had such an intensely disapproving glare it could rival Narcissa's, so he was strong-armed into keeping his hair clean and regularly brushed. He usually spent the time doing it missing the by-gone times when nobody either cared or dared to make him care about his hair.

Getting himself presentable killed about twenty minutes. Harry and Alyssa were busy reenacting some kind of battle with their toys in Harry's room, so he just told them he would be down in the cellar if they needed him. They knew not to disturb him down there unless something dire was happening

Sellick sent him a list of potions he needed restocked every Monday, and Severus pulled it out to see what he could make in less than two hours. The answer was: not much, but he could get a few of them started and leave them to brew while they were at the zoo. If he put the Wideye Potion in a brass cauldron rather than the copper one, it would prolong the brewing process to 14 hours. More than enough time for them to enjoy the zoo and come back. 

Severus soon lost himself in the familiar motions, measuring, chopping and stirring the potion, each stage and colour change like an orchestrated dance well familiar to his heart and mind. Once the first stage was completed he set a timer above it, raised protective charms and made sure the door to the cellar was locked upon exit. Once the 14 hour brewing time was complete he would need to add two sprigs of Wolfsbane and the potion would be ready for bottling.

By the time he was done with it they had twenty minutes before they would have to be at the door if they wanted to make it on time. Severus packed his own rucksack with some sandwiches, a thermos of tea with cups, spare pull-ups, wet wipes, tissues, wallet, a book for the train and house keys. Anything else could be taken care of with magic.

“If you're not down in five minutes we will miss the train!” Severus called towards the staircase as he pulled the rucksack on his shoulders.

There came the sound of footsteps banging on the floor, a swift argument about something, a scuffle of some kind and then, finally, two children running down the stairs with their bags in their hands.

Severus got Harry into his shoes in record time and the boy didn't even put up a fuss. Alyssa was already outside, bouncing in place so hard her pigtails were slapping her hat with every jump.

He was going to have to carry them home when they inevitably crashed, he just knew it.

They arrived at the train station with minutes to spare. Thankfully Harry and Alyssa became a fair bit more subdued as they approached the train for the first time, both of them pressed to his sides warily. Severus handed their tickets to the conductor and shuffled them off to a pair of empty seats. Unfortunately, the InterCity 125 didn't have compartments like the Hogwarts Express so he sat Harry and Alyssa on the window seat together and put their packs on the panel.

Alyssa immediately went digging through hers. “Mum said to give you this. It has a fresh roll in so we can take pictures of _all_ the animals. But mum also said to take some of us.”

She handed Severus a black camera with an orange button on one corner, **Sirius B-10** printed on the top. It must have been new because no camera Severus had seen so far was that small. He'd never used one but all the buttons were clearly marked, so he supposed he would manage. 

He'd just put the camera into his own rucksack when a book was suddenly shoved under his nose.

“Can you read to us?” Harry asked, “You sayed it's a _lengthy_ ride.”

“ _Said,_ ” Severus corrected automatically, “But you pronounced 'lengthy' correct. Well done.” 

Harry positively beamed at the praise and pushed the book closer to his guardian’s face. Severus took it from him and pulled it away from the end of his nose so he could actually see what it was. 

The cover of the book read Little Prince and featured a blond boy on an asteroid. The inside revealed it to be a library book, so it was probably Alyssa's. He glanced up to see the familiar sight of two eager faces looking at him expectantly.

Severus sighed. To be fair, he had brought that on himself.

Severus couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with both hands so when Harry was fussing and refusing to go to sleep, instead of singing lullabies like Isobel, he read stories. At first he told stories his own mother had read to him, and then bought several children's books, both Wizarding and Muggle. Severus figured it was never too early to instil a love of reading into a child.

That too, like everything else in his life, came back to bite him on the arse.

Harry was too young to read fluently so he badgered and cajoled and bargained with Severus every single night about how many stories he would get before bedtime, trying to bump that number up higher and higher at every opportunity, fighting against Severus’ desire to get some rest. They generally spent fifteen minutes on average just trying to outstubborn each other.

And that was when it was just Harry. When Alyssa was added to the mix it was easier to just read until they fell asleep. Of course, whether or not he used a discreet sleeping spell was nobody's business but his own. They never noticed anyway.

Severus glanced down at the book. Well, it was a long ride, and as long as it kept them behaved he might as well. He flipped the book open to the first chapter and cleared his throat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus might seem OOC in this one, but I spent a lot of time thinking how he would have turned out in the circumstances he was currently in. 
> 
> In canon, he was forced into teaching (with no prior preparation) while he waited for Voldemort to return, knowing he was likely going to die by then. At the time he was 21. He was likely clinically depressed and, honestly, if I was in his shoes I would have buckled under within a week, nevermind the sixteen years he'd endured. He was an asshole, yes, but can you blame him?  
> But here he has everything he didn't in canon: a purpose he chose for himself and is well prepared for, a small but solid support network, financial independence (and stability) and most of all, he doesn't depend on Dumbledore's arbitrary good-will for anything. He is a free man, he's only 23 and has his whole life ahead of him, and the threat of Voldemort is, for the first time in his life, only a distant worry.  
> A rather far cry from a bitter 31 year old man who had never even been given an opportunity to grieve the only person who he cared about, and is basically waiting to die for a cause Dumbledore chose for him.
> 
> That said, I don't live in England and my parents had barely met in the eighties. A lot of research went into this chapter but alas, I am as fallible as the next human so if I got something wrong let me know.


	9. 1983: My Deer Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The zoo trip is either a smashing success, or an unmitigated disaster. It mostly depends on who you ask.
> 
> There is also trouble with animals, but not the ones you'd think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I can't believe it's been almost two months since I updated. My education's mostly to blame for that, but until Master gives Kat a degree, Kat is very much NOT a free elf. Plus, I'm writing this on Google Docs, and the stupid thing lost the chapter TWICE, the second time when it was two-thirds done, so that was pretty disheartening.  
> But your numerous and uplifting reviews were so powerful I could hear them speaking to me: "C'mon Kat, third time's the charm, give it your best just once more, this time on a Word document because fuck Docs, do it for them!"
> 
> So yeah, finally here and double the length, for your patience.

"Before we go in, there are some ground rules you need to follow."

Harry and Alyssa were all but buzzing with barely restrained energy. They stood before the zoo gates with Severus kneeling before them, making sure their rucksacks were on and their shoelaces tied. The latter was mostly a thinly veiled excuse to cast a discreet tracking spell on their shoes, in case they decided a repeat of today's morning was in order.

"Number one: you do not leave my sight," Severus looked each of them squarely in the eye, "Wherever you go, you need to be able to see me. If you don't, retrace your steps and come find me."

They nodded in unison.

"Number two: if you can't find me, don't tell anyone. Stand by the one of the exhibits and wait for me to find you, but don't tell anyone you are lost and alone."

"But mum always says I should ask someone who works there for help," Alyssa tilted her head in confusion.

"Those are your mum's rules. Mine are different, and since you're here with me, you play by my rules. Understand?"

They looked at each other for a moment but they nodded in understanding.

"Number three: don't let each other out of your sight. If you do get lost it will be easier to find you together than apart."

Alyssa looked like she wished to roll her eyes but just nodded along with Harry, though those nods carried a faint air of exasperation. 

Severus sighed. Merlin, Morgana and Mordred help him when they became teenagers. 

His excuses for stalling spent, Severus rose to his feet and, with an air of a man attending his own execution, led them through the gates. 

It wasn't nearly as crowded as it could have been, thank Merlin. It was only Wednesday and the zoo had just opened, so it was mostly people like them around: parents with small children, mostly those too young for Primary. He spied at least two strollers as well, pushed around by parents not much older than he was.

Harry and Alyssa took a moment to just gawk at the sign above their heads, welcoming them to the zoo. Almost next to the entrance, just past a little moat and bridge, was a tall cage with monkeys. On the bridge itself stood a zoo attendant, checking tickets. Severus gently nudged them towards the young man, who took their tickets with a bright smile, and handed them back with a warm 'Enjoy your trip!'.

They shot off the moment they got them back, not even waiting for Severus to hand his own ticket over. The attendant didn't even try to stifle his chuckle at their antics and their guardian's glare.

In the end, deciding he couldn't blame them, he let them to their excitement. Severus would rather pull out his own teeth than admit it, but the experience was just as new to him as it was to Harry and Alyssa. Growing up there had barely been enough money for food, let alone travelling. Even leaving Cokeworth had seemed like a halcyon dream until his Hogwarts letter came, and he could still remember his mother's anxiety about how they would be able to afford his books and supplies. It had been a rather bleak spot in an otherwise happy memory.

But now, with the stipend and a double income, there was enough money for not just the things they needed, but also for things they _wanted_. 

It had been a novel experience, when he had sat down one evening to work out a monthly budget, to realise that he wasn't destitute anymore, that he wouldn't have to be fighting tooth and nail just to make ends meet. That once all the paychecks came, he wouldn't have to worry about choosing between clothes and food, between staying warm and keeping the lights on.

It took him a while to adjust to it, but he supposed taking a day off and taking the children to the zoo was what Isobel would call 'good progress'. 

Alyssa had taken Harry's hand and was pulling him along towards a cage with capuchin monkeys to the left of the entrance. To her credit, she did look back to make sure Severus was following them. His location confirmed, they turned to the monkeys excitedly. 

The exhibited primates didn't seem to share their enthusiasm. 

Quickly growing bored of watching a monkey scratching its own arse, they moved on to the next exhibit. Severus followed at a more sedate pace, letting them roam freely but keeping an eye on them all the time. They were near the avian exhibit when he remembered that Alyssa had handed him a camera. He pulled it out and after a bit of fiddling, figured out all he would have to do to take a photo was to aim and click the orange button.

Meanwhile, the kids were at the cage with condors, who were about as interested in the two tiny humans outside of their habitat as the monkeys were, and it seemed that _that_ just wouldn't do. Before Severus could stop him Harry rose up on his tiptoes and hit the wire fence _hard._ A wave of sound undulated up the wire and into the enclosure, startling every bird inside into a frenzy of flight. 

It made for a pretty sight, but Severus caught Harry's hand just as it rose for a repeat performance. 

"I thought I told you both yesterday you're not allowed to disturb the animals," Severus pointedly caught both their eyes, "That means no hitting the-"

Severus felt it a moment before it happened, and an instinct buried deep in the human genome had him grabbing Harry around the waist and pulling him away moments before one of the condors swooped down towards them, hitting the fence with a blood-curdling screech. The cage held, of course, but Harry screamed in fright at the black bird's wingspan, so similar to a wizard's cloak in the worst way.

That was when Alyssa, not caring that she wasn't even four feet tall and the bird had a wingspan almost twice that, stepped in front of the outraged condor and _screeched back._ In exactly the same pitch and height, a perfect imitation of a furious bird of prey.

Honestly, Severus didn't know who was more surprised, he or the bird.

Better yet, it worked. 

The condor must have decided the three of them were all insane and he wanted nothing to do with them anymore, because he flew away from the fence without looking back.

"I think…" Severus hesitantly got back up to his feet, taking Harry with him, "That this is a lesson well learned. Let's go before we're kicked out." He took Alyssa's hand and pulled her along away from the cage just as one of the zoo attendants was coming to see what all the ruckus was about.

"Is Harry okay?" Alyssa asked hesitantly, craning her neck to try and see Harry's face, but the boy was still hiding it against Severus' shoulder. 

Severus' hand tightened around Alyssa's. "He will be fine, he was just spooked."

Alyssa did not seem reassured. 

They walked sedately away from the avian section, still far too quiet for Severus' liking. How was it that he spent most of his waking hours hoping the two of them would shut up for once, but the moment they did he just wished they would start speaking again? The uneasy silence made him feel like his stomach acid was trying to eat through his abdominal wall. It was nearly unbearable. 

"How did you do that?" Severus finally asked. "That scream that scared away the condor?"

"I just did it the way he did," Alyssa shrugged, "I'm good at repeating sounds. Mum said it's called… Me-me-cree?"

"Mimicry. Or imitation."

"Yeah, that."

"Can you imitate other animals?"

She could, and not just poor human version of how animals vocalised, but eerily similar to what the actual animals sounded. A passerby was rather startled when he heard her bark, and then was hilariously confused when he didn't see a dog nearby. He got out of there pretty quickly while Alyssa snickered into her hand. Severus himself had trouble keeping his smile at bay.

After several such demonstrations Harry began to squirm in Severus' arms, wanting to be put down. As soon as he was back on his feet he turned to Alyssa, his fear seemingly forgotten.

"Can you do the kitty purr?" he took her other hand with a sunny smile.

Alyssa smiled back at him, then let out a rumbling sound from her pursed lips that sounded almost exactly like a feline purr. The only difference was that she had to stop when she ran out of air, inhale, then start up again on the exhale. 

Severus let go of her hand just as they were going to the reptile hall, letting them go on ahead so he could pull out a camera. He managed to snap a picture just as they were under the sign proclaiming that they were entering 'Snakes of the Amazon' exhibit.

The lights inside were dim, and several signs warned to turn off the camera flash. Severus stopped to fiddle with the camera, trying to figure out how to do that. Harry and Alyssa wandered about, holding hands and this time keeping a respectful distance from the glass cages. Severus followed them, snapping pictures whenever they stopped in front of one of the animals long enough, trying to capture both the snake and their awed faces. He hoped the photos turned out clear.

Things were going well until they got to the cage with the Amazonian Anaconda, a sign proudly proclaiming it the biggest snake in the zoo. Harry and Alyssa hopped onto the wire fence so they could see over it and into the cage. Severus hung back several feet so he could fit the entire image into the frame. The anaconda even looked up at them, like it was suddenly paying attention to its observers.

In retrospect, that was probably the moment where everything started going wrong.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" a shrill voice interrupted Severus from his endeavour. He turned around to see a middle aged white woman with a hairdo a decade out of style and a horrible blue eyeshadow glaring at him, looking like a dictionary definition of offended disapproval. She even had her hands on her hips.

Severus looked at her, glanced down at the camera, looked at Harry and Alyssa, then turned back to her. "I would think my actions are self-explanatory."

She reared back as if slapped, disgust twisting her face. "Not even the decency to deny it! You should be ashamed of yourself! You have five minutes to leave this place before I call security!"

"Madam, with all unfortunately due respect, I rather think you are the one who should be ashamed." Severus glared back at her, his voice level, "Since I paid for the ticket, I have as much right to be here as anyone else. You, on the other hand, are causing a disturbance, as I'm pretty sure the sign on the entrance said no loud noises."

The strange woman turned red in indignation and drew herself to her full height, which was still a foot shorter than Severus, even with her garish heels. "How dare you! This is a place for normal people! _Your kind_ are not welcome here!"

Severus froze at her words. Did she know he was a wizard? How? A quick glance at his wrist confirmed that his wand wasn't sticking out of his sleeve, and he had dressed appropriately for a Muggle. He hadn't done any magic since before they entered the zoo, and he had been sure no one had seen him. What gave him away? The absolute last thing he needed was to get the MLE involved for breaking the Statue of Secrecy, how could she know?

"Excuse me," a dark, heavy-set man in a neon vest and a zoo card around his neck interrupted them. A security guard. "One of you mind telling me what's the problem here?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's the problem here, officer!" the woman screeched before Severus could even open his mouth, "This _disgusting_ man needs to be removed before children are harmed!"

The security officer turned a gimlet eye on Severus, seizing him up and down. Severus put on his best innocently confused expression. "I honestly have no idea what she's talking about."

"Uncle Sev, Uncle Sev!" Harry's voice interrupted them, the boy dragging Alyssa by the hand towards them with excitement. "I can talk to-"

"Wait just a moment, Harry," Severus told him, then turned to the guard, "Officer, this woman, whom I've never even seen before, came up to me and simply started yelling at me for some unknown reason. I'm just as in the dark as you are."

The security officer turned to the woman, who was looking at Harry and Alyssa with red-faced disbelief. Upon noticing her scrutiny, the children shuffled uncomfortably behind Severus' legs, which made the woman's face turn positively purple.

"Ma'am?" the officer drew her attention, "Would you mind explaining yourself?"

"He was taking pictures of them!" she burst out, pointing a finger at Severus, "He was following them around and- and skulking and taking pictures and you see what he looks like! How was I supposed to know anyone would let their children near someone like- _that._ "

Severus was still confused what exactly she was talking about but the guard obviously cottoned on sooner than he did. The man drew himself to his full height, crossed his arms and frowned thunderously down at her. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"What?!" she shrieked higher that that bloody condor, making Harry and Alyssa press against the back of Severus' legs. 

"Ma'am, you're disturbing both the animals and the zoo visitors, and are throwing around baseless and rather disturbing accusations at random people. You need to leave."

And that was when Severus finally realised what was going on. "Wait, you thought I was-" his face went even paler than it usually was. Then it twisted in rage. "You bloody cow, you see an adult with two children and your first thought is that the adult is a sexual predator?! I dare say that says more about you and your tastes than it does about me!"

The woman gave a scream that sounded more like a boiling tea kettle and stepped towards Severus with a raised hand, her intentions clear. Severus was already reaching for his wand but the guard was faster. He quickly and efficiently restrained the shrieking woman then began pulling her away with a grimace of apology to Severus. Within a moment they were out of sight, though the screams still echoed.

"Uhh," Alyssa peeked from behind Severus' legs, "What's with her?"

"Pay no attention to her, she is merely a prejudiced cow," Severus fairly growled. He took both their hands and led them out of the snake hall and towards the lizards. As they passed the anaconda it watched them go rather creepily, flicking its tongue.

Harry made an odd hissing sound as he waved goodbye to it. Alyssa repeated it a moment later and waved as well. Severus sighed quietly, already resigned that his house was going to sound like the entirety of the zoo until the novelty wore off. He just hoped they wouldn't practice being elephants at five in the morning.

The rest of the reptile exhibit went almost without incident. Harry and Alyssa didn't seem nearly as interested in the lizards as they had been in snakes, and had even asked to go back to the anaconda until they spotted the crocodiles. That had derailed them quite effectively, and except for Severus having to drop the camera and dive after Alyssa to make sure she didn't fall into the pool, they were well behaved. Thankfully, neither Alyssa nor the camera were damaged.

Around noon Severus herded them towards a nearby park bench to distribute tea and sandwiches. He just barely managed to stop them from descending like locusts upon Alyssa's rather impressive supply of candy before eating some solid food, but he did manage. Then he poured himself some well-deserved tea to try and calm down, but abruptly remembered something.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Mmh?" Harry mumbled around a bite of his sandwich, his attention entirely on a herd of deer in an enclosure right across from them.

"In the reptile exhibit, before the… fight. You wanted to tell me something."

"I forget," Harry shrugged, then took another bite of his sandwich.

And that was that. It probably wasn't important anyway. 

Once they were done with food, Harry pulled out Spiderman and Wormy, the only toys he could fit into his tiny rucksack, and within a minute they'd spun an exciting tale about Spiderman having to save the world from the Mighty Rat King, who wanted to steal all of the world's supply of cheese for himself. Alyssa, who was an ardent lover of cheese, swung the toy mouse high above her head out of Spiderman's reach, laughing and gloating about her supreme plans while Harry did his best to get Spiderman over her head to stop the evil Rat King. 

The entire scene was patently ridiculous, and Severus was absolutely not hiding a smile behind his cup of tea. At all. And he only took pictures because Isobel had asked him to. Really.

Judging them sufficiently preoccupied, Severus gathered the rubbish from their meal and went to throw it away in the bin not far from the bench. He walked several yards over, dumped it, bent down to pick up a stray wrapper that fell over the rim, and turned around.

He had his back to them for nearly a full minute, which he really should have known was more than enough time for them to cause mischief.

"Mister Snape! Mister Snape!" Alyssa came running to him, her eyes the size of saucers, waving Wormy and the camera in her hands, "Harry _teleported!!!"_

Severus had never watched much Doctor Who, but he'd seen enough to know that 'teleport' was a Muggle word for 'Apparate'. The mechanics involved were vastly different, namely in that the wizarding means were actually possible to accomplish, but the end result was the same.

Of course, then the meaning of the words actually registered. 

Harry _Apparated._ His first instance of accidental magic, and a rather complex one at that. Somehow, Severus wasn't in the least bit surprised that Harry would chose to do it in the most heart attack-inducing way he could think of. Accidental magic rarely harmed the child that had caused it, but Apparating was dangerous even for grown wizards who knew what they were doing, the chances of splinching were high enough to send Severus' heart into his throat.

He had Alyssa in his arms and was running in less time than it took the two of them to get in trouble. 

A small crowd had gathered around the fence below the **RED DEER** sign, murmurs of confusion and astonishment from parents and children respectively. Severus pushed his way through the crowd without bothering to apologise, his only goal getting to the fence without dropping Alyssa. At least his passenger wasn't bothered by either the crowd or the jostling. In fact, she had stuffed Wormy in her pocket and was angling the camera to catch Harry.

Said hellion was inside the deer enclosure, oblivious to the crowd outside it, but thankfully hale and whole. Harry hadn't even seemed to notice he wasn't where he was supposed to be and was cheerfully making friends with the other occupants.

He was petting a small fawn that had come to sniff him curiously. Seeing how her offspring wasn't afraid of the small human, one of the does came up to him as well and started grooming his hair, which said a lot about how awful it was if even animal mothers thought it needed to be brushed. Or in this case, licked. Another fawn was also cautiously approaching and the sole buck was keeping an eye on the proceedings. 

"Harry!" Severus called, trying not to let the panic he'd been feeling a moment ago be heard in his voice, "Come over here!"

"Uncle Sev!" Harry happily trotted over to stand before Severus, hair now flattened with deer drool, "I made friends!"

Severus ignored the titters of the onlookers behind him. He glared down at Harry from the other side of the fence, but thankfully the boy seemed unharmed. He didn't even seem startled, actually, so that was a relief.

Confirming his fears were unfounded, Severus's emotions spun the wheel of fortune and settled on anger.

"What did I tell you about getting separated from either me or Alyssa?" he asked sternly.

"You said 'don't leave my sight'," Harry smiled guilelessly, "You still see me. No rules broked."

The other parents didn't even try to hide their laughter this time. Severus had to grit his teeth and remind himself that the satisfaction of hexing a few annoying Muggles was not worth the Ministry getting on his case for breaking the Statue of Secrecy. 

He still held Alyssa a little tighter, just to make sure his hand didn't 'slip'.

"Excuse me, sir," yet another zoo attendant came through the crowd, this time a young woman, "Is that your child?"

"It is," Severus hefted Alyssa higher on his hip as he turned to her, "I don't know how he managed to get in there, but I would appreciate getting him back."

"I told you, he teleported," Alyssa corrected him, and snapped another picture. Harry waved at her as she did it.

The zoo attendant raised an eyebrow at that answer, but she at least looked sympathetic to his plight. "Well, he's certainly not the first kid who found a hole big enough to squeeze through. We'll open the gate for him, we just have to be careful not to scare the deer or he might get trampled."

Severus hoped that was not meant to reassure him, because it very much _did not._ Still, the attendant pointed Harry towards the back gate next to the feeding corrals and told him to wait for his uncle over there. Harry just blithely told her 'okay', and skipped off.

"Look on the bright side," one of the other fathers told Severus as he picked up their things from the bench, "At least he's willing to come out again, instead of deciding he'd prefer to stay with them."

"That's a shame," Severus bit out in irritation, "And here I was looking to foist him off on his own species."

The man just laughed, though his wife looked worried. Severus didn't stick around for any other commentary, pulling Alyssa along through the 'STAFF ONLY' door towards the back. The fact that one of her hands was trapped in Severus' grip was the only reason she was not snapping away with the camera, judging by the way her head was swivelling around, but she was obediently keeping in step with him.

For a moment, Severus actually managed to delude himself that the entire fiasco would be easy to resolve, that they would get Harry out, continue with the trip and only end up as an amusing story the zoo employees would share over tea.

That was not what happened.

"Okay, we better be quick and careful," one of the security guards told him, thankfully not the same one from the reptile exhibit, as he led them to the gate, "These buggers are big, and they're only here on rehabilitation so they're not really used to humans. Plus, the fawns dropped just two months ago, so they're still nursing, and the does are extra wary. And if they panic, Jeremy will panic and then we're all bugg- er…" his eyes darted down at Alyssa, "-then we're all in trouble."

"Jeremy?" Alyssa asked.

"The big stag over there," the guard pointed at the stag in question, "We've been calling him Jeremy. He's a wild one, hasn't been here long and likes nobody. Except your kid, apparently."

"He's welcome to keep him," Severus told him dryly.

"I'd knock on wood if I were you," the guard raised an eyebrow at that, "Sum'tin tells me he just might."

The guard might have been onto something. Harry had indeed listened and went to stand near the corrals where the gates were, but the deer were apparently convinced Harry was just another fawn, albeit a strangely shaped one. Judging him safe, the stag had trotted over at some point as well, sniffed Harry's hair, his pockets and his nose, and it might have been the end of it if Harry hadn't decided to pet him as well.

The stag was bloody huge, even for a member of its species, and his velvet-covered antlers had already started forming a crown, promising to be proportionate to their owner's size. But growing antlers was apparently an itchy business, because as soon as Harry started scratching his little fingers along the base Jeremy the Stag had turned to putty in his hands.

Admittedly, it made for a pretty picture, the King of the Forest as docile as a puppy at the hands of a toddler. He had his head pressed to Harry's shoulder to give him better access to the base of his antlers, eyes closed in bliss as Harry worked both hands into the fur to scratch at it. Alyssa had wasted no time in pulling out the camera to capture the moment, and she wasn't even the only one.

In retrospect, the guard was right. Severus should have knocked on that wood.

The gates opened, Jeremy the Stag noticed two adult humans approaching, and everything went to Hell.

* * *

"I can't take you two anywhere," Severus complained mulishly as they were walking towards the station, frazzled, tired and bruised, "They didn't even have to ban us, no one in their right mind would return there after _that_."

"I had fun," Alyssa mumbled through a yawn, rubbing her eyes with the hand Severus wasn't holding.

The early morning rise and the excitement of the trip had finally taken their toll. Harry was dead to the world, drooling on Severus' shoulder, and Alyssa wasn't far behind. Severus was hoping to at least get her on the train before she dropped off as well, but he sincerely doubted his luck would hold out that long. 

He was right about that. After Alyssa had tripped over her own feet for the fifth time in as many minutes, Severus knelt down on one knee, gently maneuvered her leg over his thigh and pulled her up on his hip. Judging her tired enough not to notice, he cast a wandless Featherweight Charm on her and stood up with one child on each arm. She passed out in a matter of seconds.

Severus was knackered as well, but unfortunately he was the only adult here, and therefore responsible for getting them home in one piece. He almost swore to hex the idiot that had come up with the brilliant idea to leave him in charge, but then he remembered it had been him, so he just sighed quietly and continued walking towards the station. 

As he walked, he had nothing better to do than think. 

So, Harry had performed his first bit of accidental magic. A very complicated bit of magic at an unprecedentedly young age. While impressive, Severus just knew it was going to be a source of countless headaches down the line. 

One did not just stop using magic once they discovered they had it, and Harry had extremely poor impulse control already. Severus was practically guaranteed to wake up one day to find him stuck on the ceiling, and that's if he was lucky. It was just as likely Harry would start testing his newfound abilities by blowing something up, and since they lived in a Muggle neighbourhood it would be a little hard to explain it away.

If worse came to worst, he could ask Lucius about magic dampening spells that were safe to use on children. 

Severus managed to wrangle Harry and Alyssa onto the train somehow without waking them up, which surprised even him. He settled them onto the window seat and put their rucksacks under his legs. He was tempted to catch a nap himself but he did not trust the people in the public transport, so he pulled out the book he'd brought for just that occasion, and settled in to read.

Harry woke up around the two-hour mark, which was usual for his naptime. He yawned hard enough to crack his jaw and blearily sought out Severus. 

"Are we home yet?" he asked once he saw his uncle.

"We still have another hour to go," Severus dog-eared the page he was on, something that never failed to give Lucius ulcers, but had been a habit for too long to break, "How do you feel?"

"Still sleepy," Harry mumbled and tucked himself closer to Alyssa, "Is Jeremy gonna get in trouble?"

"I doubt it," Severus assured him, though he would have, personally, been rather glad to see the damnable beast shot. He was going to have bruises for the next _week_ , "We got into more trouble than he did."

"Is it be'cos I got in?" Harry shyly peered from beneath his fringe. Good, at least he knew he'd done something wrong.

"Yes," Severus said shortly, and discreetly cast a _Muffliato_ , "Do you remember when I told you why I always do chores without magic when Alyssa and Isobel are around?"

"'Cos Muggies aren't supposta' see," Harry mumbled into Alyssa's shoulder.

"Muggles, but yes. Those without magic aren't supposed to know it exists."

"I didn' mean to."

"I know," Severus sighed, "It's called accidental magic for a reason. But now that you know you can do magic you need to be more careful with it. You can practice when you're alone, or when you're playing with me or Draco, but when you're with Alyssa you can't tell her about it."

"Is not fair," Harry whispered, so quietly Severus barely heard him.

"I know it's not, but most things in life aren't fair," Severus told him gently, "Bad things would happen to her if the Ministry found out she knew about magic, so it's best she doesn't know at all."

Harry didn't say anything to that, just wrapped his arms around Alyssa and silently clung to her. She slept on, blissfully oblivious to the heavy conversation going on next to her. 

Alyssa finally woke up some twenty minutes before their destination and immediately launched into exciting theories about how Harry could have teleported without the TARDIS. Harry just kept repeating 'I dunno' whenever she asked him anything, still a little glum. Severus felt for him, but there was very little he could do about it. Perhaps when she was a little older and Severus could be reasonably sure she wouldn't tell Isobel they could tell her, but that was bound to end in heartbreak, one way or another.

A wizard or witch may find their place in the Muggle world, but there was no place for Muggles in the Wizarding World.

Thankfully, Harry's mood lifted considerably when they came back home and Severus pulled the strawberry shortcake from the fridge and the birthday song had been sung. Once cake was eaten and clothes were changed, Severus and Harry escorted Alyssa back home with the camera and a promise they would see her tomorrow. 

Alyssa gave Harry a hug that looked more like a cheerful attempt to squeeze out all of his internal organs through his mouth, but Harry didn't complain. He hugged her back just as fiercely and only parted upon Severus' urging and with great reluctance.

"Lucius will come with Draco around six," Severus reminded Harry as they walked back home, "You can tell him all about it. And Apparating even short distances is very complicated magic, I'm sure he will be very impressed. Lucius said he hasn't done any magic himself, yet."

"Really?" Harry asked, "But he's older than me."

"Only by about a month, and three years is unusually young to start showing signs of magic."

That put Harry in a better mood, that he'd have something impressive to show Draco for once. Other than Alyssa, Draco was Harry's only friend, and an endless source of new games and interesting stories, not to mention new toys. Harry had only a few magical toys that mostly had to be put away when Alyssa came to visit, and with his attention span they mostly just collected dust unless Draco was coming over.

Draco, on the other hand, was well on his way to becoming a spoiled nightmare. Lucius and Narcissa were good parents for the most part, but neither of them knew the meaning of the word _moderation,_ and therefore were not well equipped to teach it to their son _._ If their precious brat wanted something, he got it, no questions asked, and they generally took the same approach with Harry, much to Severus’ dismay. Their reasoning was that if they _could_ , they most certainly _should_ shower their godchild with presents.

Severus had even lost his better judgement and let Harry go shopping with Narcissa once.

 _Once._ He was most certainly not repeating that mistake again. 

_Speak of the devil,_ Severus thought as the Floo flared green. Lucius stepped out as graceful as he could be, considering he was carrying Draco and a long package wrapped in colourful paper. 

"DRACO!!!" Harry shot off his chair and collided with Draco before the blond's feet were even on the ground. Draco looked startled for a moment after being so lovingly attacked but he did hug Harry back.

"Hello, Littlest Prince," Lucius greeted warmly as he brushed the ashes off his robes, "And Happy Birthday. Draco…"

"Happy Birthday," Draco wheezed out, looking a little blue in the face. It seemed Harry was picking up Alyssa's bad habits when it came to physical affection.

"Guess what!" Harry let Draco go to look at him with a beaming smile, "I can teleport!"

Draco just looked confused.

"It's called Apparating, Harry," Severus corrected him, "And yes, he did. Today, no less."

"Really!?" Draco's face split with an enormous grin and he wasted no time in pestering Harry for every single detail. Harry complied with equal enthusiasm, pulling Draco away towards the table as he talked.

"Truly? On his own?" Lucius looked impressed. He set the gift on the coffee table and handed his cloak to Severus, who hung it on the coat rack near the door.

"Indeed. It was only a few feet, but it was enough to get into the deer coral, where he managed to befriend half the herd."

"Well, it certainly sounds like Herodion," Lucius laughed behind his hand.

"You laugh now, but we got banned from that zoo."

"Nobody said Muggles had any sense. And besides," Lucius lifted up the present he'd brought with him and handed it over to Harry with a look of faux regret, "That means we have _twice_ the cause to celebrate. I knew I shouldn't have listened to your uncle and only brought one present. Now I am woefully unprepared and must insist on being allowed to give you one more when you come visit on Friday."

Severus rolled his eyes at Lucius' dramatics but Harry certainly wasn't complaining about the interruption. He eagerly accepted the long rectangular package and tore into the wrapping paper with Draco helping him, revealing a white box underneath. Harry flipped the lid carelessly and dug his hands inside the crumpled paper, pulling out a-

"Lucius," Severus growled when he saw what was in Harry's hands, "That _better_ not be what I see it is."

"Oh?" Lucius inquired innocently, the effect of which was rather ruined by an impish smile, "Do you not think it a perfect present for Herodion?"

As far as Harry was concerned, it probably was a perfect present. Because it was a bloody _broom._ An expensive, shining one that probably reached speeds that was absolutely not safe for toddlers, and definitely not safe anywhere near Harry.

But the moment Severus heard the shriek of absolute delight, he knew he was buggered. Harry was looking at that bloody stick like it was his first and only love, there was no way Severus could discreetly turn it into magical kindling when Harry wasn't looking. Not without drowning the entire neighbourhood in tears.

It was official. This day was a complete disaster.

"BEST. DAY. EVEEEEER!!!!!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs. And from the top of his broom, which was hovering precariously near the ceiling since Harry had wasted no time in mounting it and taking off like he'd been born on it.

Severus didn't often think about Harry's true parentage anymore, but sometimes he was rather violently reminded.

"Exactly what part of 'Muggle neighbourhood' is escaping your understanding?!" Severus yelled at his idiotic friend when there was a loud crash from upstairs. Which was exactly where Harry had disappeared seconds ago.

"The part where you still insist on living in one," Lucius blithely told him, then smiled like a bloody Cheshire cat, "Think of this as an incentive for relocation."

Severus firmly reminded himself that he owed Lucius far too much to murder him. And that Draco would cry a lot if his father mysteriously vanished. And that Narcissa might be cross with him if he returned her husband to her in the form of potions ingredients.

That one managed to curb his bloodlust somewhat.

"Well then," Lucius checked his watch just as Draco shot off upstairs after Harry, "I'll be picking Draco up around eight. Do have fun with them until then."

And with that, the bastard flounced off to the Floo and disappeared into the green flames, leaving Severus with two hyperactive toddlers and what may as well be a weapon of mass destruction in their hands. There was another crash upstairs, followed by more shrieking.

Actually, Severus wasn't going to murder Lucius. Oh no. The blond bastard was going to be watching them all day on Friday, and Severus was going to make sure it was the worst Friday of his life. After all, a couple drops of distilled caffeine can be easily hidden in a sugary drink, and Severus had a bottle of Sprite in the fridge.

Lucius was about to learn just how petty Severus Snape could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when the next update's gonna be, so I wanted to end this chapter on a lighter note. And yes, the issue with Muggles and magic is going to be a rather heavy plot point down the line, since I'm one of those people who were immensely dissatisfied with the way Rowling ended the series, which is why I needed actual Muggles and not just Muggleborns. But more on that later. 
> 
> Concerning the caffeine, I worked out that that two drops of pure caffeine are roughly 120mg of caffeine, which is about your standard cup of joe. A bit much for a pair of toddlers, but if my baby brother could down one of my cram coffees and only give grey hairs to my dad, I figure two magical children are going to be fine. Severus isn't going to poison them.
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to say that the reason I don't know when I'm gonna be updating this is because I've lost my mind and signed up for NaNoWriMo. Like, at this point a third of the month has already gone and I've got, like, 6000 words. Yikes.  
> But good news is that it's another HP story (because baby steps), so if I manage to complete it you get to read it come December, if not... then maybe in 2020.


	10. 1983: Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll take a cup o kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ties in with the third chapter, as the title says, but strangely enough when I wrote this one it was Rhianna's 'Stay' that was playing in my head. I don't even know why, but that's the song that set the tone for this one, as opposed to 'Auld Lang Syne' in the third chapter. I guess something about the line 'funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving' just... fit.

Come Friday, Lucius arrived with Draco and stayed for tea. Draco happily tried the sugary carbonated drink, and though Lucius levelled a sharp look at Severus he didn’t forbid Draco from drinking the Muggle soda, thinking that in itself was payback. If he knew what Severus had hidden in it, he would have slapped it out of his son’s hand. 

But he didn’t, and Draco and Harry drank their laced Sprite uninterrupted. 

Severus smirked behind his cup.

Then Lucius took the children with him, and Severus was bitterly reminded just why he had asked Lucius to take Harry away this Friday. 

There was a special guest coming to visit today.

Severus waved his wand with only a bit more force than necessary, and all the toys strewn across the room rose and flew to Harry’s bedroom. The drawings pinned to the fridge changed to potion recipes and shopping lists. Tiny shoes walked themselves into the shoe cupboard. Children’s books flew off the shelves and into the wooden chest, which snapped closed. Colourful cups burrowed themselves behind bigger dishes. The tiny tam-o-shanter Alyssa had forgotten two days ago hid itself in the pocket of Severus’ black trench coat. 

Within ten minutes, there was no evidence that a child had ever stepped foot in Severus’ house. The dark curtains he always pulled closed when he was doing magic gave the room a dim and almost ominous atmosphere. With another unspoken command the doors of the cellar flew open, letting the smell of stale potions waft into the room.

Once the stage was set, Severus put away his wand and made another pot of tea. 

The Floo flared green once more just as he was setting the other cup down on the table. Severus took a deep breath to gather his patience and to strengthen his Occlumency barriers, then he turned around.

“Headmaster,” he greeted with a nod.

“My boy, am I never going to convince you to call me Albus?” Dumbledore smiled, his voice sounding a touch reprimanding. 

“That does not sound very proper,” Severus told him noncommittally. He put a couple tea bags in the pot and set it on the table, calling up every lesson on Pureblood etiquette Lucius had ever instilled into him. He did it every time Dumbledore came to visit, even though it got him exactly nowhere in the Headmaster’s esteem, but it helped him keep his calm composure and controlled movements.

It was the particular kind of mindset he’d developed back when he was spying on Voldemort, and it served him well in these situations.

Not that Dumbledore knew that, of course.

The old Headmaster shook his head slightly but the smile never left his face. He ambled over to the other chair just as Severus was setting the milk and sugar on the table. He went to sit but visibly startled when the chair seat ended up being a lot closer than he was used to.

Just as he got up to see what was wrong with the chair, Severus remembered it was _Harry’s chair._ He’d forgotten to remove the books under the cushion.

“Oh, so that’s where those went,” Severus drawled nonchalantly, “I’d been wondering why my shelf looked so empty since I dusted it.”

“Ah, and here I was worried you were conspiring with Filius,” Dumbledore chuckled as he handed the books over to Severus, “He hasn’t been getting along with the newest Defense teacher. The poor man hasn’t even started yet and Filius has already threatened to hex him. Though if he turns into a frog after taking a sip of his tea…”

“I will not be to blame,” Severus shot him a cross look, “Though if someone as mild-mannered as Flitwick can’t stand him, I would suggest you pick someone else, or McGonagall _will_ take care of him and I can guarantee you, you will not find the body.”

“You overestimate my abilities when it comes to finding new teachers every year, my boy,” Dumbledore said somewhat wryly as he spooned sugar into his tea, “Though I cannot find fault with your remarks, the people qualified to teach so much as a first year class are getting fewer and fewer, and the list of favours I can call in is getting proportionally shorter.”

“If this is yet another roundabout way of asking me if I’m willing to come work for you, my answer is the same as it is every year: no.”

“Well, you know what they say; hope springs eternal,” Dumbledore smiled behind his cup. Severus didn’t even bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The old Headmaster did this twice a year: come to his house, drink his tea, pry into his non-existent love life, try to employ him in some capacity and tell him an amusing anecdote or two. It had gotten to the point where Severus regarded him the same way most people did their ditty, old relatives they were obliged to entertain every Christmas and Easter.

Speaking of anecdotes...

“You know, I had just remembered a story you might find amusing,” Dumbledore began with a conspiratorial smile, “It was, oh, back in 1930-ies. I had just been a Transfiguration teacher for a year when Minerva came to Hogwarts. I found teaching most delightful, and rather full of surprises, but rarely did a student surprise me as she did.”

It actually took Severus a second to realize he was talking about _McGonagall_. He sometimes forgot just how old Dumbledore was, that he had been his teacher’s teacher, and was now trying to get Severus to become a teacher. Circle of life, he supposed. 

Noticing he’d gotten lost in his own memories, Severus motioned for him to continue.

“Ah yes, it was the first practice class,” Dumbledore stroked his beard with a fond smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “Turning matchsticks into needles, that much hasn’t changed. Of course, there are always students who get anxious if they do not get it right on the first try, so I sought to reassure them. Alas, naive as I was at the time, I told them ‘Of course you won’t be able to do it on your first try’. Minerva took it as a personal affront to her skill.”

Severus snorted elegantly. Minerva McGonagall, young and not entirely in control of her infamous temper, being told she might fail in her personal field of expertise? Dumbledore might as well have waved his Gryffindor red robes in front of a raging Hippogriff. 

“She informed me, in the thickest Scottish accent I had ever heard, quite loudly at that, I could not possibly be so sure of that. So I told her, in an admittedly somewhat patronising tone: ‘Yes, you may surprise me, or any of your classmates could.’”

“I can imagine how well she took _that,_ ” Severus drawled. He had learned rather quickly what happened when you used that tone on children any older than two, never mind an eleven-year-old with a chip on her shoulder. 

“Yes, well, I did say I was rather naive back then,” Dumbledore smiled ruefully, “So she asked me what I would give to the student that managed to _surprise me._ And I, in my misplaced confidence, told her that, should she manage to turn her matchstick into a needle on her first try, I would allow her to call me by my first name.

“So she glared at me with such ferocity that I am to this day surprised my beard did not catch fire, then without breaking eye contact, turned her matchstick into a very fine needle indeed. She handed it to me as proof, and smugly asked me: ‘Will there be any homework, _Albus?’”_

Severus had already been all but gaping at the sheer _bollocks_ that woman possessed, but Dumbledore’s impression of a prepubescent McGonagall, complete with the Scottish accent, was really too much. Severus barked out a laugh before he could stop himself, and quickly covered it with his teacup. He could do nothing about his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, and Dumbledore noticed.

“She has called me Albus ever since,” he finished with a sigh, “Sometimes I remember those times and become grateful all over again, that she and Tom Riddle had not been in the same year. Hogwarts may not have remained standing had that been the case.”

“Tom Riddle?” Severus asked curiously. The name sounded vaguely familiar…

The look in Dumbledore’s eye turned shrewd, and just like that, Severus was once again sober. He could feel that he had inadvertently entered dangerous territory, and he had done so with his shields barely active.

How well did he make him forget that Dumbledore was _dangerous._

“Are you certain you do not know him?” he asked, tone deceptively casual.

Ah, so this was the part of the conversation where his evasion skills were put to the test. Though this one was deceptively easy, considering Severus truly did not know who Tom Riddle was.

It was a trap, pure and simple, and the only way out was straight through.

“It does ring a bell, but I could not say which one.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Dumbledore leaned forward, but only ended up pouring himself another cup of tea, “He did go by quite a different name later in life, and it is certainly the one by which he is best known. Somewhat ironic, then, that it is the name most people are afraid to speak.”

_Voldemort._

Severus tensed before he could stop himself. This was the forbidden territory, one of the three things they did not talk about, not even in passing. Why was Dumbledore bringing it up _now?_ Had something happened, that Dumbledore felt it necessary to question him about it?

“He was equally as brilliant as Minerva was,” Dumbledore continued, once again spooning sugar into a fresh cup, “In some areas, perhaps even more so. Within his first month he had carefully charmed each and every single one of his teachers, and most of his classmates. But it was always just a mask. And he had many of them.”

Severus knew well what Dumbledore was talking about. He remembered vividly how Voldemort had changed his tune to suit the tastes of whoever he was wooing. Severus had envied his skill, that he could convince the likes of Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange that they had a common goal, one important enough to tolerate each other’s presence to achieve.

Severus may not have had that skill, but he knew better than to point out Dumbledore most certainly _did_.

“Many masks, indeed. I myself may have fallen for one of them, had he not let it slip once,” Dumbledore looked at him with an expression Severus could not name, “Did you know he grew up in a Muggle orphanage?”

Severus blinked.

“I imagine not; it certainly wouldn’t have endeared him to his target audience. Unless that audience changed…”

“Would you get to the point already?” Severus lost his patience, “You talk of manipulators and liars as if you’re not both. I’ve told you before, I've lost my capacity for tolerating either, so either make your bloody point or get out of my house.”

Silence reigned for a moment. Severus could honestly not tell if Dumbledore was actually shocked or if he was pretending for effect, and he didn’t care for it either way. He did not trust the old bastard as far as he could throw him, and by the old man’s own admission, he owed him _nothing._ Every promise Dumbledore had ever made he had failed to deliver, and the only reason Severus even tolerated his presence was currently locked up in a sealed drawer in his desk, lying next to the certificate that pronounced Severus Herodion Prince’s official guardian.

That, however, did not extend to tolerating the old man’s newest recruitment attempts.

“...you’ve changed, Severus,” Dumbledore finally said, “but for the life of me I cannot decide if it was for better, or worse.”

“Neither. I simply grew up,” Severus told him scathingly, “Teenagers tend to do that, in case your teaching career failed to inform you of that.”

“Ah, but growing up tends to be a process. But you… It was as if you’ve woken up one day and decided to reconstruct yourself. Roger sings your praises to anyone who would care to listen. Mrs Lang thinks you a proper, if reserved young man. Even Griphook had hardly any complaints about your accounts-”

“You’ve been questioning my employers?!” Severus blurted out in outrage, “And my accountant? What the bloody Hell were you hoping to find?”

“What I was hoping to find or not is infinitely less interesting than what I did find,” the shrewd look was back in Dumbledore’s eye, “You went from following a Pureblood supremacist to living in a Muggle neighbourhood and providing a Muggle shop with healing potions that are so effective they skirt the law of the Statue of Secrecy, and by all accounts, you did so before the Ministry even dropped the martial law. I think my curiosity is perfectly understandable.”

“First of all, Madam Lang wouldn’t be buying my potions if they weren’t effective, you cannot fault me for making a living. And as long as she doesn’t intend to expand beyond the family shop and doesn’t ask what is in them, they are perfectly legal. I checked. _Twice._ And second of all, I’m pretty sure spying on me _is not!_ What, were you hoping to find out it was all a cover for the illegal ingredients smuggling ring?”

Dumbledore didn’t say anything. Severus gaped.

“You were! Of course you fucking did, it’s ‘once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater’ with you! Never mind I haven’t gotten so much as a reprimand from the Ministry since my trial, on which _you presided,_ you still see me as guilty! Why the bloody fuck would you pardon both me and Lucius if you are clearly convinced we’re-”

Severus stopped. Stared. Dumbledore was still placidly looking at him, and Severus could have smacked himself on the back of the head for not figuring it out two years ago.

“It was a trap,” Severus spoke as if it was a revelation, “Or rather, it was supposed to be. You knew Lucius would manage to get the charges dropped no matter what you did, especially with martial law in effect. So you gave us a length of rope, told us it was freedom, and waited for us to hang ourselves with it. But we took too long to do it, so you went to check if we tied the noose properly. And when you found nothing, you came to me. _That’s_ what all this talk of ‘Tom Riddle’ and ‘masks’ was about.”

Now that all the pieces were in place, the bigger picture was painfully obvious. Severus supposed that to Dumbledore, who was missing a rather big, Herodion Prince shaped piece, the bigger picture looked rather different.

But what Dumbledore saw with the pieces he had...

The cups and the teapot on the table trembled. Severus had to take a breath to calm his wild magic down, but while the cups stopped shaking it did nothing for Severus’ anger. 

“Indeed, you have deduced almost everything correctly. But, only almost,” Dumbledore laced his fingers and leaned back in his chair, and his eyes seemed far away.

“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known, those scant few years ago. You cannot judge a desperate man if you wish to get the measure of him, because that measure will always come up short. When they are desperate, all men are the same, for anyone who is drowning will reach for a lifeboat. But what a man does with freedom… That is the choice that should be weighed and measured. For a good man driven to desperation might commit evil deeds, but an evil man would use his freedom to turn a friend into a murderer, and himself murder another friend.”

It took Severus a few seconds to realise who, exactly, Dumbledore was comparing him to. The cups nearly started to tremble again but Severus grit his teeth to the point of pain in an effort to control himself.

“I assume there is a point you are trying to make?”

Dumbledore turned those penetrating eyes on his, but Severus felt no prodding at his shields. In the end, the Headmaster sighed.

“The point would be… That I was wrong. On more than one count,” a self-deprecating smirk tugged on one corner of his mouth, “That _has_ been known to happen, though rarely so consecutively, and I suppose Minerva is right in saying that I’ve gotten far too used to being right. Ah, forgive an old man his meandering ways and purple prose to say a single thing. But with age also comes caution. You say I gave you freedom as a rope to hang yourself with. And yet, you’ve used it to pull yourself up, all on your own.”

The feeling of Deja Vu overwhelmed Severus, because he’d heard it before. It was an echo of words spoken two years ago, when Severus was like a wounded dog, howling in pain from the bottom of the pit he had dug himself, and the man that had handed him the shovel was offering him the way out.

_“You think you are the only one who could save you. I only ask that you allow me to throw you the rope.”_

“You are right: it was a test. But it was as much a test of your character as it was my judgement. And as it turns out, it is I who has not passed it,” Dumbledore continued in that same placid tone, “I’ve certainly no right to ask for forgiveness, and yet I am an old fool, so I shall ask nonetheless: Severus Snape, for all the wrongs I have done you, I am truly sorry, and humbly ask for your pardon, and give you my solemn word I shall try to do better by you, if you let me.”

Severus was speechless.

“Take your time, and if in the end you decide that my wrongs were too heavy to be forgiven… Well then, that is the burden I will have to live with,” his mouth turned into a sad smile, “It certainly wouldn’t be the first.”

Severus took a moment to look at the man in front of him, with his ridiculous robes and impractical beard, but also with his old, old eyes and thin, speckled fingers holding a delicate cup. One of the cups that Severus had in his rage broken on that night two years ago, and Dumbledore had repaired it amidst gentle words to its owner.

_“Grief is nothing to be ashamed of. We all bear it differently, my boy. If yours seeks an outlet in destruction, let it. It is far better it destroys mere objects than your heart.”_

How did Dumbledore bear his grief? A century was a long time to collect it, and the weight must be overwhelming at times, if not constantly.

And what ‘objects’ had to be destroyed in lieu of the old man’s heart?

“You are right in one thing,” Severus managed to say even though it felt like something was stuck in his throat, “I need time.”

Dumbledore nodded and set his cup down cautiously, with the air of someone who was disappointed but not surprised. He slowly got up and the chair creaked, and the table he nudged as he was getting up shook the tea in the cup, and the ripples trembled across its surface.

Severus looked down at those ripples and a memory came to him, of less than a week ago, when he was sitting in Isobel’s kitchen drinking tea, and the kids were watching the telly, and she was making eggs and bangers for breakfast, and she sang.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_and never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_and auld lang syne?_

_For auld lang syne, my jo,_

_for auld lang syne,_

_we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,_

_for auld lang syne._

“You haven’t finished your tea.”

Dumbledore abruptly stopped at Severus’ words, but Severus wasn’t looking at him, his eyes still on his cup, though he wasn’t seeing it any more than he saw the man in front of him. But he heard what Severus meant to say, because he of all people understood what it was like, when you had to use the wrong words to express what you mean because you hadn’t any others.

_You can stay... for a bit longer._

_I can’t forgive you... Yet._

_But... I think I would like to try._

_Yes, for you… But also for me._

_I’m tired of living with the guilt too._

Dumbledore understood.

He sat down.

And they talked, though Severus could not, for the life of him, remember what about. Light and meaningless conversation, though they’d somehow managed to avoid the weather. But they talked until Dumbledore’s cup was empty and Severus walked him to the Floo, and Dumbledore asked if he would perhaps be welcome to come again.

And Severus said yes. As long as he sent an owl in advance.

He felt… lighter. And strangely dazed as he washed the tea set. By hand, and with his sleeves rolled up. The Dark Mark didn’t seem so haunting now, faded and covered with soap bubbles.

Lucius returned soon after he’d put away the last cup. His eyes were wild and his hair was in disarray, but Harry was sleeping peacefully in his arms so Severus didn’t worry.

“...You didn’t mention he can crawl on walls,” Lucius told him accusingly as he handed him over.

“Oh, he can?” Severus raised an eyebrow and didn’t quite manage to hide his smirk, “That’s certainly news to me.”

He got the feeling Lucius dearly wanted to curse him. Both verbally and literally.

Harry yawned into his shoulder just as the loo flared green behind Lucius’ departure. Severus rubbed his back in circles, somehow still astonished how small Harry was, that the length of his palm spanned the width of the boy’s back.

“Did you have fun at the manor?”

“Yah,” Harry mumbled mid-yawn, “Ah meeted Pansy.”

“They’ve started already?” Severus said mostly to himself, and mostly in amusement, “Did you like her?”

“Yeah. But not like Alyssa.”

“Yes, well, Alyssa is a special case,” Severus smiled, then pulled Harry away a little so he could look at him, “You know, I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and we need to return her hat to her. Would you like to go see her?”

Harry’s mouth split into a toothy smile, and though it was interrupted by another yawn Severus wasted no time in putting on his shoes and walking down the street to go see the Fishers.

_We twa hae run about the braes,_

_and pu'd the gowans fine;_

_But we've wander'd mony a weary foot,_

_sin auld lang syne._

_We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn,_

_frae morning sun till dine;_

_But seas between us braid hae roar'd_

_sin auld lang syne._

_And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!_

_and gie's a hand o' thine!_

_And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught,_

_for auld lang syne._

_For auld lang syne, my jo,_

_for auld lang syne,_

_we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,_

_for auld lang syne._

_And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!_

_and surely I'll be mine!_

_And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,_

_for auld lang syne._

He didn’t even mind that he couldn’t get that song out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, writing just about any interaction with Snape and Dumbledore gives me a headache, because Dumbledore is probably the only character MORE complicated than Snape, and for Snape I'm literally writing a whole ass story in his perspective, while Dumbledore has to make do with occasional appearances seen through Snape's eyes. So yeah, portraying him properly is a headache, but I think I'm managing okay so far. After all, this is a story of learning from your mistakes, and growing out of them. Not even Dumbledore is too old for that.  
> Lemme know what you guys think.
> 
> Credit where credit is due, the story Dumbledore tells is from [here](https://kyraneko.tumblr.com/post/187934011951/pandabully-thatgirlonstage), because when I read it the Headcanon fairy hit me over the head with, well, let's say a canon. I did say I'm going to stuff a whole lot of them in this story, you've been warned.


	11. 1985: Snakes and the Bees

Severus had been so sure he was getting the hang of this whole parenting thing.

The first step had been recognising that he had no personal references of healthy parenting of his own, short of Lucius, and educating himself. Isobel and the Cokeworth library had both been invaluable sources on that front, providing information on how to rear and raise an infantile human without traumatising them. Or at least without traumatising them too much.

He had been prepared for anything. He had the files of Harry’s height and weight milestones, a record of all his shots and check-ups, a chart of physical and mental development, all neatly organised in an expanding desk drawer that held all documents pertaining to Harry. He’d read every child development book he could get his hands on, and Isobel had, with patience a saint would envy, spent the first year Harry had been in his care near constantly reassuring him he was doing a good job. 

His best efforts had paid off. As Harry approached his fifth year on this godforsaken planet, he did so clean, healthy, plump with baby fat, bright, curious, friendly and, most importantly, absolutely nothing like Severus had been at that age. He counted it as a resounding success.

So of course the moment Severus got comfortable and felt like he had gotten the hang of parenting, life had to shoot a hex straight at his arse.

“Uncle Sev, Uncle Sev!” Harry yelled when he came home one day, over the banging sound of the backdoor as it hit the wall, “I know where babies come from!”

“Do you now?” Severus asked without looking up from the Potions journal he was perusing. “Close the door behind you.”

There was a sound of small feet running back where they came from, a click of the lock, and a veritable stampede thumping its way towards the kitchen table, where Severus was drinking his tea. He was not surprised in the least when he saw Harry’s messy and grass filled hair accompanied by an equally messy head of red hair. 

“Yeah, Sisi told us!” Alyssa explained with a wide, gap toothed smile, “She even showed us where she laid her eggs so we know not to go walking there.”

 _That_ pulled Severus’ attention away from the laughably mediocre work of some potioneer that clearly only got his article published by sleeping with the editor. “Sisi told you what now?”

“Where she laid her eggs,” Harry repeated, “So we don’t smush them by accident when we play.”

Severus had been listening about the misadventures about some girl named Sisi for weeks, but this one threw him for a loop. “You mean Sisi has a pet that laid eggs?”

“ _No_ ,” Alyssa rolled her eyes in exasperation, as if Severus was being needlessly slow, “ _She’s_ the one who laid eggs. We noticed she looks skinnier than she did yesterday, and she told us that’s because she laid her eggs now and doesn’t have to carry them in her belly.”

Severus was slowly getting a clue that he was missing something. 

“And… Who, exactly, is Sisi?” 

“She’s a snake,” Harry told him brightly, as if that wasn’t crucial information he’d neglected to mention until now, “She said she didn’t have a name but she said that we could name her if we wanted to, and she liked Sisi the most, so that’s what we named her.”

Severus could only blink. “Harry, snakes don’t talk.”

“They do too!” Harry protested, “They sound kinda’ hissy-weird, but they talk!”

Severus’ breath hitched at those words. Because snakes didn’t talk. At least, not to ordinary people. But Severus knew of one person to whom snakes spoke perfectly clear.

No, it was impossible. Voldemort had been the last Parselmouth in Britain, and the ability was definitely hereditary. There was absolutely no relation between him and Harry, there was no way-

“Yeah!” Alyssa pointed at her smiling mouth with both index fingers, “They sound like this!”

Then sibilant whispers came pouring out her mouth, and Severus could feel the years of his lifespan draining away along with the blood in his face. It sounded almost- No, no ‘almost’ about it, it sounded _exactly_ like the sound of his worst nightmares. The ones where the war never ended and he was forever trapped bowing before the most powerful sadist in the magical world.

And then his heart stuttered to a stop when he realised _he had no idea who Alyssa’s father was._

Harry must have decided he did not look nearly traumatised enough, because he turned to Alyssa and _hissed back._ And Alyssa nodded like she _understood him._

The parenting books did _not_ prepare him for this.

Feeling like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, Severus stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over the table. He ignored the confused looks on the children’s faces and marched up the stairs. His Occlumency shields had slammed up on any intrusive thoughts on instinct, pushing them away to be assessed at a later date. Preferably when he wasn’t anywhere close to the children in question.

There was a chest at the bottom of his closet, concealed under just enough spells to hide it from childish fingers, but not so many as to make it interesting to anyone with a wand and detection charms. In that chest, old and ornate and looking distinctly out of place in Spinner’s End, Severus held the last possessions that had belonged to his mother.

Ordinarily, he kept the chest purely for sentimental reasons, and he might have even admitted to it if someone held a wand at his throat. But today, he was less interested in the meaning of the items and more in the fact he remembered his mother had a set of tarot cards. Severus had lost what little taste he had for Divination, but today he needed the cards to divine something else. Something potentially even more catastrophic than Trelawney’s prophecy. 

Whether he liked the outcome or not, Severus needed proof. He’d learned his lesson about not having all the facts and then jumping to conclusions.

“Harry, Alyssa, come here,” he called them as he shuffled the deck, “You say you can talk to snakes.”

“Uh, yeah?” Alyssa hesitantly confirmed. She’d never been to Severus’ room and she was more interested in the decor than the conversation. It used to be his parents’ bedroom, but Severus had thrown out everything except for his mother’s wardrobe and the bed. Those stood on one side of the room, to the right of the entrance, and opposite of the bed was Severus’ work desk, overflowing with parchment and various magical and Muggle objects, and next to it an expanding shelf full of books on Dark magic he did not feel comfortable leaving within the reach of two curious children.

“Can you talk to each other like you talk to snakes?” Severus asked them without turning around.

“Yeah, I told Alyssa-”

“Right,” Severus cut Harry off, “I need you to prove it. Harry, you sit there. Alyssa, go over by the desk, turn your back to us.”

It looked like Harry and Alyssa had realised there was something going on because they shared worried looks, then did as they were told. Alyssa stood facing Severus’ desk and Harry sat on the bed in front of his uncle. Severus took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. 

“I’m going to show Harry a card,” he showed them the deck, careful to keep the pictures away from Alyssa, “and I want you to tell Alyssa what you see, and she is going to repeat it in English, alright?”

“Alright,” they dutifully nodded. Then waited.

Severus knelt down so he and Harry were at an eye level of each other, took out a card without looking at it and held it in front of Harry’s face. Harry crunched his eyebrow for a second, then hissed something Severus didn’t have to understand to feel shivers climbing up his spine.

“A man with a rope around his neck,” Alyssa announced. Severus looked around to make sure she had her back turned, then flipped the card over.

 _The Hangman_.

Wonderful. They were off to a _great_ start.

Nevertheless, Severus forced himself to keep calm and show Harry another card.

“A wizard,” Alyssa said, and the card showed _The Magician._

“An angel with a horn,” she said for _Judgement,_ which indeed had an angel blowing the horn on it. Severus supposed snakes had no use for such things as justice and judgement, so Harry and Alyssa had to manage with words they did have.

There was one thing that translated directly, though.

“Death,” she said for the final card, “Is that it?”

“Almost,” Severus told them as he shuffled the deck with hands that just barely didn’t shake, “Now you switch places.”

They did it without complaint, if a little pensively. Then Alyssa sat on the bed and recited the names of cards in whispers and sibilants, and Harry repeated back in English. They got all the cards correctly, but there were subtle differences in description. If there was no direct translation Harry tended to describe the pictures he saw, whereas Alyssa said the meaning of the word written on the bottom. 

Different ways to say the same thing. That wasn't something they could have premeditated to play a trick on him. That was a characteristic of a real language. That, more than anything, meant Severus’ worst suspicions were correct. 

The Occlumency barriers, which were not meant to be used as shields for thoughts invading from within in the first place, splintered and cracked until a truth Severus could no longer deny leaked through.

_They were Parselmouths._

“Mr. Snape, are you okay? You look pale.” Alyssa asked, her childish voice full of concern.

Severus stayed still where he was kneeling before her and looked at her. Looked at her with her flaming red hair and icy blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul. He’d wondered once or twice what Isobel’s ex-husband had looked like, when she herself had warm, chocolate-brown eyes and black hair, but he’d never thought it would be anything to be concerned about. 

But those were both recessive traits, not necessarily indicative of what the parent looked like. And so was Parseltongue, it seemed. Severus had been friends with a nurse long enough to learn his Punnett squares, so he could hazard a guess how Harry could have gotten it. If Parseltongue was a recessive trait, all it needed was another recessive pair to come to light. A pair that someone outside the old magical gene pool might carry. Someone like a Muggleborn. Like Lily.

James Potter might have come from a Light family, but all the old magical families were intermarried within the last ten to fifteen generations. He could have carried on the trait to his son without having it himself. Dumbledore had mentioned that Voldemort himself had, in fact, been a Halfblood. It made sense for Harry to be a Parselmouth. Very little sense, but there was still sense.

Severus was drawing a blank in Alyssa’s case, though.

Of course, there was one explanation that made some sense. Alyssa was the correct age for it. Severus himself had had the exact same idea when he thought Dumbledore was going to condemn him to Azkaban. The Dark Lord was an unprecedented Legillimens, it would have taken him minimal effort, and it would ensure she would never be found.

_The enchantment that made Isobel Fisher think it was her own child._

He was going to be sick.

“Uncle Sev? Uncle Sev?” Harry was shaking his shoulder, starting to look worried himself, “What’s going on?”

“How much do you know about your father?” Severus ignored him in favour of asking Alyssa.

She looked taken aback. “What’s that got to do with-”

“Humour me.”

“...Not much.” Alyssa shrugged uncomfortably. “Mom said he was a soldier, and that they, uh, ‘went their separate ways’ right before I was born. Something about going off to war and being too scared he wouldn’t come back.”

_Fuck._

Alyssa was born in 1978. Seven years ago, Britain hadn’t been waging any wars. In fact, The Northern Irish Troubles, which had been one of the reasons his own mother had fled her homeland, had been at a temporary ceasefire at the time. An ordinary soldier would have no reason to fear coming back in a casket just as he was expecting his daughter to be born.

At least, a Muggle soldier wouldn’t.

“Does… this have anything to do with you and Harry being wizards?” Alyssa asked guiltily, wringing her hands with anxiety.

Severus stared at her. Then looked at Harry.

“In my defence, I told her right before you told me not to tell her,” Harry said with the exact same expression of guilt.

Severus took a deep breath through his nose. Then another. He could deal with this. It was only a theory so far, nothing was confirmed. He could be absolutely, wildly wrong. And even if he was right, he could deal with it. Baby steps, as Isobel always said.

 _Oh God,_ what was he supposed to tell Isobel? Did she even know?

No, wait, baby steps. One thing at a time, get the problem down to a task you can deal with without falling apart. Start with something you cannot possibly fuck up. Baby steps.

_Deep breaths now._

“Right, it actually does,” Severus replied to Alyssa’s earlier question, “How much did Harry tell you?”

They looked at each other, both of their shoulders pulled up to their ears. Neither of them uttered a word.

“What’s done is done. Now you need to tell me so we can deal with it. I may be mad later, if it’s warranted, but I’m going to help you first. You need to tell me how much you know,” Severus reminded them.

“...tell her much,” Harry mumbled at his shoes, “Just that I’m magic, and that’s why sometimes weird things happen when we play.”

“They’re not weird, they’re awesome!” Alyssa protested but Severus stopped her before she could go further.

“And do strange things happen around you?” he asked her.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “I just talk to snakes. And sometimes other animals, but not that well.”

Severus could feel hope in his heart. He knew Alyssa had an exceptional talent for mimicry, maybe her actual ability was to talk to animals in general, not just snakes. Maybe she wasn’t a Parselmouth at all, and Severus was wrong.

“Wait, you think she’s a witch?” Harry butted in. His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

“I don’t know. It is generally considered a magical ability, so it’s possible.” Severus didn’t want to get Harry’s hopes up only to dash them right after, “I need you to tell me how you know Parseltongue.”

“Pars-what?”

“Parseltongue. That’s the name of the language spoken by snakes.”

“I didn’t know it had a name,” Alyssa admitted in wonder. Then her expression slowly sobered, “Remember when we got banned from the zoo?”

“...Which one?” What was even Severus’ life that _that_ was one of the questions that needed to be asked?

“The first one, when that deer kidnapped Harry and wouldn’t give him back. Um, right before that, when we were looking at the anaconda, Harry started talking to it.”

“I didn’t even know I was talking differently,” Harry shrugged, “I can tell them apart now, but back then it sounded like normal talk to me.”

“Yeah, I could tell he didn’t even notice,” Alyssa nodded, then turned back to Severus, “He said he was talking to the anaconda, and she talked back. So I asked if he could teach me.”

Severus was once again taken aback. “Teach you? So you didn’t understand it on your own?”

“No,” Alyssa shook her head, “Harry taught me. He said words normal, and then repeated them in snake language. Um, Parseltongue. And I would repeat after him until he could understand me, so I knew I got the word right.”

Severus blinked. Could Parseltongue be _learned_? By a Muggle, no less? He opened his mouth to say that it was impossible, but he immediately closed it when he drew a blank. Any language could be learned, even creature ones. Dumbledore spoke fluent Mermish, and Lucius spoke Gobbledegook, for all that he was disdainful of Goblins. Mermish sounded like a raspy screech when spoken above water, and Gobbledegook like guttural Russian. Why would a language composed of hisses and whispers be any harder to learn? But if it was possible to learn it, why hadn’t anyone done it?

Severus sighed. He had a feeling he knew why.

“Mr. Snape?” Alyssa brought him out of his musings, “I didn’t tell anyone, I promise. Not even mum. Harry said we could all get in trouble if I knew, I _promise_ I didn’t say anything!”

“I know, I believe you,” Severus quickly assured her, “But that’s not the problem here. Harry, come.”

Harry obediently scrambled up on the bed next to Alyssa. She took his hand in hers and squeezed comfortingly, to reassure him or herself, Severus wasn’t sure.

“Listen to me, both of you,” Severus looked them both in the eye, one at a time, “Does anyone other than me know you two can speak Parseltongue?”

“Sisi does, and-”

“I meant anyone human,” Severus interrupted Alyssa with only slight terseness in his voice. She caught it anyway and wilted slightly.

“I don’t think so,” Harry shrugged uncomfortably. When Severus looked over at Alyssa she shook her head as well.

“Good. You need to keep it that way. And unlike magic, you cannot tell even Draco or Lucius or Narcissa about this, nor any wizard.”

“Why?” Harry looked bewildered.

Severus held back a sigh. He was hoping he would have a few more years before he had to have this conversation with Harry.

“A few years before you were born, there was a Dark wizard,” Severus began haltingly, “He called himself... _Voldemort_. And he did horrible things.”

“Like what?” Harry asked curiously.

“...He hated Muggles and wizards with Muggle parents. People without magic,” he added when he saw Alyssa scrunch her brow in question, “He hated them so much he wanted to kill them all.”

Harry and Alyssa were hanging on the edge of the bed like Severus was reading a particularly exciting story. He wondered if they fully comprehended the reality of it. 

“He killed a lot of people, not just Muggleborns and Muggles, but anyone who fought against him. Entire families would be left dead in their homes. No one was safe from him. He was unstoppable… Until one day, he wasn’t.”

“Wait, I know this story!” Harry interrupted with a big smile, “That’s when he went to kill Harry Potter, but something weird happened, and no one knows what, but he was turned to ashes!” 

“Who’s Harry Potter?” Alyssa asked, and Harry turned to her to explain, oblivious to the way blood rushed from Severus’ face.

“Remember when I told you about Draco?” Alyssa nodded, “He told me this, he said that Voldemort was looking for babies born on the last day of July, because there was this prophecy that this baby was going to grow up into his enemy. And that was Harry Potter! And Voldemort went to kill him but instead of killing him they killed each other!”

“How? Wasn’t he a baby?”

“No one knows! Draco said that it was his accidental magic, that Harry Potter was _so powerful_ he defeated Voldemort even as a baby! That was why Voldemort was so afraid of him and wanted to kill him before he could grow up, but it didn’t do him much good because he was defeated either way!”

“That’s… More or less correct,” Severus confirmed once he found his voice, though he still sounded a bit strangled. Every time Harry had said the Dark Lord’s name a shiver went its merry way up Severus’ spine. 

“But what Draco didn’t mention was that… Voldemort was also a Parselmouth. His mark was that of a snake and a human skull. People that can talk to snakes are very, very rare, and the ability is hereditary.”

“Hered-what?” 

“It means it’s passed down from parents to their children.”

“Were my parents Parselmouths then?” Harry asked excitedly, and Severus hesitated.

Harry had recently started asking about his parents, once he’d figured out he must have had them at some point, that only having an uncle or a mum was considered _unusual._ That most children had a mummy and a daddy, and that Harry had to have them as well since children can’t even be _made_ without both.

Well, they technically could, but making a baby in a cauldron wasn’t a forbidden practice for nothing, and it was beside the point anyway.

Severus didn’t want to lie to him, but he didn’t have much choice since he couldn’t exactly tell him who his real parents were. He compromised by mixing truth into his lies, or not answering at all if he could help it.

But Harry wasn’t in the habit of giving up, and he’d been learning patience recently.

“...Your mother was not,” Severus finally answered, “And I do not think your father was either. But it is likely a recessive trait, meaning it can skip generations.”

“Like my hair,” Alyssa smiled in understanding, “Mum said my hair is red just like granny’s, and that I got it from her and not my dad even though she has black hair. She said red hair can skip generations like that.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “So my grandad was a Parselmouth then?”

“Not necessarily, but yes, it means at least one of your ancestors spoke Parseltongue,” Severus confirmed, “But that’s not the point here. When I said Parselmouths were rare, I meant that the Dark Lord was the first one in Britain in centuries. He is the only one within living memory. That you are only a generation apart will be suspicious to many people.”

“You mean they will think Harry is related to this evil Voldemort bloke? That's why you asked about my dad?” Alyssa asked, and she must have at least partially understood the gravity of the situation. She grimaced and turned to Harry, “I see why people wouldn’t like it if they heard us.”

“Exactly. We would be in even more trouble than if Muggles found out we were wizards,” Severus looked them in the eye again, as if to stress the importance of keeping quiet through sheer will power, “You cannot tell _anyone._ Including Draco. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Uncle Sev,” Harry nodded, “But… Does that mean Alyssa’s not a witch?”

Severus just sighed and got back up to his feet. “I think it does. If she didn’t know it on her own, then it’s just a secondary language to her. Even if the language itself is considered magical, it doesn’t mean that she is as well.”

“Oh,” Harry sounded disappointed. Strangely enough, Alyssa didn’t seem to feel the same. She just shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“That’s probably a good thing. Harry blows up enough things on his own, if there were two of us we would have brought the house down around our ears _for real._ ”

That wormed a little smile from Harry. He generally wasn’t the kind of child who dwelled on things or held grudges, which had greatly surprised Severus in the beginning. Severus was wont to ruminate on misgivings he could barely even remember, and Lily held grudges like an avenging angel. Harry, on the other hand, forgave as easily as he breathed, and Severus had not seen him sulk for more than an hour in all the years Harry had been in his care.

He wondered if Harry had gotten that particular trait from his father or if he’d learned it from Isobel.

Then he remembered the venom Isobel still held for her ex-husband, and decided to stop thinking about it. 

“There’s still two hours before I make us lunch,” Severus changed the topic, “You can play until then.”

“Can we go back to Sisi?” Harry asked, once again cheerful, “We promised to help her with her burrow.”

“Alright, but be back by noon.”

Harry and Alyssa agreed, then scuttled out of the house, back to the newly minted snake mother they had befriended. Really, the human options must have been even worse than they were in Severus’ time if a _snake_ was better company than the children of Cokeworth.

Severus took a deep breath and held it until he could hear the distant sound of the back door slamming closed. There was a perpetual draft through Spinner’s End, and unless one remembered to brace the doors before they closed, which Harry never did, you could hear them closing almost two houses away.

Once the reassuring sound had been heard, Severus yanked open the bottom drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the one vice he still allowed himself.

The window obediently opened with a flick of his wand. Severus braced his elbows on the window pane as he pulled out a cigarette from its box and put it between his lips. Once he checked there were no Muggles that happened to be looking up near the house he lit the end with his wand. While Severus could do some simple spells wandlessly, fire was the one element that refused to obey him. He could fly on his own power and cast a Billowing Charm with hardly a thought, but every time he’d tried to cast fire wandlessly he managed to burn himself.

But he was playing with an entirely different type of fire now. 

Severus wanted to damn Draco and his big mouth but he knew he couldn’t blame the boy. Everything he’d told Harry was considered public knowledge in the Wizarding World. Severus could hardly keep Harry away from it, and he’d promised himself not to shelter the boy besides. Even if it wouldn’t have been suspicious, it was no way for a wizard to grow up, away from his people. If his childhood was any use in this, it was a rather solid guideline on what _not_ to do. For all that they lived in the Muggle World, ostensibly for the protection anonymity offered, Harry was no stranger to Wizarding spaces.

So Harry was going to learn about himself one way or another, even if he didn’t know it was about him. It was an accepted fact that Harry James Potter was dead, had heroically given his life to end the reign of terror the Dark Lord had inflicted upon Britain. His was the name wizards both celebrated and mourned, the saviour that had been lost to them.

The Boy Who Vanished.

When people tried to picture him in their minds, nobody imagined the bastard nephew of Severus Snape, and Severus intended to keep it that way. 

He knew his lies wouldn’t hold out forever. He would have to send the boy to Hogwarts in a few years, and unless he was willing to subject himself to the curse of the DADA position he couldn’t follow him. Harry would be right under Dumbledore’s nose, and the old wizard wasn’t considered the greatest mind of the century for nothing.

There were spells he could cast to hide Harry’s true parentage. The one on his irises still held, and only had to be renewed once a year. The ‘birthmark’ on his forehead would help derail the suspicions, and Severus trusted that Draco would waste no time in pouring an entire bottle of Sleekeazy on Harry’s head to tame his wild hair. Narcissa certainly never hesitated to do just that when she dragged the two of them to various social functions.

His protections would hold. But he didn’t know for how long, and what the fallout would be when they finally failed. What would happen if Dumbledore was right, if Voldemort would indeed one day return.

He was on borrowed time, Severus knew. But for his promise to Lily, and the boy he had indeed come to love as his own, Severus would stretch it as far as he could, and make the best of it.

As he blew the cigarette smoke over the dreary streets of Spinner’s End, Severus Snape did not know yet how little time he truly had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, methinks Draco's a fanboy. And beware the ominous ending, oooooooh.
> 
> But anyway, this took a while to get done mostly because I spent a long time rewriting a big plothole in the script, and then I had to organize the events I want to happen in the next few chapters. Our boys and girls are gonna have a lot of stuff happening to them in the next few chaps.
> 
> As always, I absolutely love all of you people, and I've been trying to talk myself into replying to comments a bit more. In the spirit of that determination, I now have a [Tumblr](https://katoninetailswrites.tumblr.com/post/190309157341/if-youre-here-im-assuming-you-came-from-my-ao3)!!!!! Have some questions? Curious about headcanons? Snippets and early updates? Occasional HP shitpost? Clicky on that link, and I'll see what I can do.


	12. 1985: The Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt our regularly scheduled programing for some family drama.
> 
> Or: Lucius gets sloshed and bitches the pot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google Docs lost three quarters of this chapter two weeks ago, so I pulled this oneshot I wrote ages ago and rewrote it into 5300 words of pure gossip, based on a headcanon that Lucius turns into a Victorian version of Jason Isaacs when he gets drunk. I too have a ridiculously large family, and I have dirt on family members I haven't even met because I've been in Harry's position for every single family gathering, so... Apologies to my family members who inspired these characters.
> 
> Btw: 'Bitch the pot' is Victorian version of 'spill the tea'

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Severus looked up from his contemplation of the tea at Isobel. She was peering questioningly at him from behind her newspaper, her breakfast long since finished while he had barely touched his own. 

“Thinking about Harry,” Severus gave a non-committal answer. Said boy was currently in the next room with Alyssa and Agnes, watching Saturday morning cartoons. The one currently playing was something about a group of intrepid adventurers and their pet unicorn, with a sadistic master dictating their adventures.

Honestly, Severus sometimes thought that the Muggle imagination was even weirder than actual magic.

“Ah,” Isobel carefully folded her newspaper away, “Does it have anything to do with Harry asking me if it was weird that he only had one… pecker?”

Severus’ tea returned to his cup through his nose. Isobel leaned over to smack him on the back while he tried to choke out all the liquid that ended up in his lungs.

“Yes, I thought so too,” Isobel nodded sagely, “I didn’t expect to have the ‘birds and the bees’ conversation so soon either. David Attenborough is nice and all, but maybe we should pay more attention to what kinds of documentaries they watch.”

“It’s not the documentary,” Severus managed to wheeze out, “The other day a snake to- They saw two snakes mating,” he coughed once more, “Then one laid eggs and they’ve been somewhat confused about how human children are made since.”

“Oh, that explains it,” Isobel poured him another cup of tea, “But it doesn’t make me sleep any easier at night. I thought they knew better than to disturb wild animals, especially ones that bite. Venomous ones, no less.”

“It’s not the snakes I’m worried about,” Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Harry really asked you that?”

“To be fair, Alyssa has asked me weirder over the years,” Isobel laughed, “Trust me, nothing will beat the ‘when am I going to get a fork in my tongue, mum?’. Before we figured out she meant a snake tongue my mother wanted to call an exorcist.”

Severus hid behind his hands. “I’m… sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, dear. I can guarantee you it’s only going to get worse when they hit puberty.”

“Please don’t even mention that, I can actually _feel_ my hair turning grey just thinking about it.”

“If your hair is turning grey, what the hell is mine supposed to do?” Isobel snorted inelegantly, “At least you don’t have to dye it yet.”

“I’m not exactly far behind.”

“You’re only twenty-five.”

“I feel as if those digits should be reversed.”

“Preach, Severus. Preach.”

It continued like that until the end of breakfast, their conversation part sarcastic banter part serious discussion. Today was a Saturday, the only day of the week when Isobel didn’t work, and it had become a tradition for Harry and Severus to get up early and walk to the Fisher house for breakfast and Saturday morning cartoons. Then come Sunday, when Isobel returned from her shift, she would do the same with her family and come to Severus’ house for lunch.

It was a tradition started in the early days of their acquaintance, when Severus was functioning on sheer willpower alone. Isobel had told him he could come to her for help with anything, which usually involved her helping him whether he asked for it or not but making him think it was his idea in the first place. 

Really, Severus thought as he and Harry walked home, Isobel would have been an excellent Slytherin, but he had no doubt Hufflepuff would have snatched her up for their own the moment the hat was put on her head. Kind, hard-working, loyal and honest, there was no contest which house she would have ended up in. Severus supposed it just went to show the entire system was ridiculous, and house rivalries even more so now that he was an adult.

Meanwhile, Harry bounced ahead of him towards their door, then turned to look at his uncle impatiently. He’d recently stopped holding Severus’ hand when they went out, insisting that he was a big boy now, he didn’t need his hand held, what were his future classmates going to think, that he was a baby?

Severus acquiesced without a fight since the need for independence was something he was well familiar with. He only insisted on holding Harry’s hand when they were in a crowd, because no amount of domestication could make Severus any less of a paranoid bastard. But other than that, only the ‘line of sight’ rule applied.

Alyssa, on the other hand, had no such compunctions and gleefully attached herself to either Severus or her mother whenever they were out. It seemed to be some kind of compromise because Harry often held _her_ hand instead, so they looked like a human chain of increasingly shorter links. Isobel thought it was the most adorable thing she’d seen in her life. Severus just gave up on ever understanding child logic.

“Uncle Seeeeeev,” Harry whined on the top step, all but hanging off the doorknob, “How are you so sloooooow?”

“Wait until you get to my age, we’ll see how sprightly you will be,” Severus drawled as he fished through his pocket for the key. He took his sweet time finding it too, trying not to laugh while Harry looked like he was on the verge of developing hernia from impatience.

In the end, he never got the key out of the pocket, because before he could even think about unlocking the door it swung open to reveal a dishevelled Lucius on the other side, sending Harry crashing to the floor with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Lucius!?”

“Language, Severus, I taught you better than that,” said intruder admonished him. He was holding a glass of red wine in his hand, which did not bode well considering it was eleven in the morning.

“The hell you did! What are you doing here?” Severus picked Harry up from his sprawl and elbowed his way into his own house. Lucius at least had the grace to close and lock the door behind them.

“I’m hiding from my aunt-in-law, what does it look like?” 

“Walburga?” Severus questioned incredulously, “What did the old bat do now?”

“Oh, nothing unusual,” Lucius all but collapsed onto Severus’ armchair with a ‘woe is me’ look on his face, “She just accused me of being a half-breed lover, that Narcissa is far too good for me because I’m just a useless ill-bred politician, and then spent an hour critiquing my ‘parental incompetence’, which is her way of saying I’m far too lenient with Draco because I’m not hexing him for every minor slip of etiquette. Par for the course, at this point.”

“Please tell me you’re not actually listening to her rubbish,” Severus begged him, already tired from the mere thought of Walburga Black, “That woman was mad even before she suffered a stroke, now she is downright insane. Did Narcissa tell you what curses she and I used to heal Regulus from?”

“Who’s Regulus?”

Lucius and Severus nearly jumped a foot in the air when they were abruptly reminded Harry was in the same room as them, and they were having a conversation a five-year-old should probably not be hearing.

“Oh, he was your uncle’s friend from school,” Lucius tried to smile for Harry’s benefit and almost succeeded, “Remember what I told you about Narcissa’s aunt Walburga? She was his mother.”

“That mean old lady that made Draco cry?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Lucius sighed and rubbed his temples in an uncharacteristic display of weakness, “The healers say she is not long for this world, but I’m starting to think she is far too spiteful to actually die any time soon.”

Severus looked at his friend, taking note of the flyaway hairs and loosened necktie, slight traces of sloppiness Lucius would usually never allow himself. Not to mention he was hiding in Severus’ house drinking his wine. His _fortified_ wine, Severus amended when he saw the label on the bottle Lucius had pilfered from his cellar. He just hoped it was his first bottle, if it was the second Severus would have to carry him back to Narcissa, and he doubted the poor witch needed any additional stress.

“Why do you visit her when she is so mean to you?” Harry clambered onto the armrest of Lucius’ chair. Lucius transferred the glass of wine to his left hand and put his right on Harry’s back, so the overexcitable brat wouldn’t fall straight on his head again.

“She is family, Littlest Prince,” Lucius sighed, “Whether I like her or not matters little. It is Narcissa’s duty, and mine as her husband, to take care of her.”

“Can’t somebody else do it? Somebody she won’t be so mean to?”

“I’m afraid Narcissa is the only one left who can. The Blacks might be a big family, but not all of them are well suited for any kind of caretaking.”

“The Blacks?”

“Lucius…” Severus said in a warning tone from his seat on the sofa.

“Don’t give me that look Severus, he’s going to learn the family history at some point,” Lucius took another sip from his glass before turning to Harry, “Let’s see, where to start…? Well, there is Walburga Black, and there was her elder brother, Cygnus Black. They were actually from the secondary branch of the Black family-”

“And they never stopped being bitter bastards about it,” Severus muttered a tad sarcastically.

“Severus, do not be crass, I raised you better than that,” Lucius admonished him.

“First of all, you need to stop with that old joke, you and Narcissa are far too young to be my parents, even if I wasn’t a black-haired halfblood-”

“You’re adopted.”

“-and second of all, I’ve _met_ Cygnus and Walburga Black, to our mutual displeasure. You cannot tell me I’m wrong. When they weren’t busy disparaging everyone around them, the only thing they could talk about was how to marry their children above their station.”

“Severus, arranging marriage contracts is the whole point of those social gatherings.”

“I _know,_ ” Severus reminded him with a growl, “Because you started dragging me along to those ridiculous gatherings so you could marry _me_ off!”

“And I would have succeeded if you’d stood still long enough to be introduced!” Lucius shot back, gesturing with his arms so hard he nearly spilled his wine, “If you’d played your cards right and married the right girl you could have started your own House! They don’t inherit the fortune that comes with the title but some of them had very large dowries!”

“Why?” Harry asked curiously, thankfully derailing _that_ particular conversation thread, “Why can’t they inherit titles?”

“Oh, it’s not that they can’t, it’s just not usually done,” Lucius shrugged, “Women take their husband’s surname when they marry, so most families name a male heir if there is one, so the name survives.”

“And thank Merlin for that, isn’t it?” Severus asked gleefully, “Otherwise you would be forever subjected to your evil, sadistic aunt who could never stop pinching your cheeks.”

“I’d kindly remind you not to mention that!” Lucius growled, “And it was Aunt Serpentina that pinched my cheeks, the sadistic one was Demonica. Honestly, I don’t know what my grandparents were thinking, they were just asking for trouble with that one. And she pinched my cheeks as well, but not the ones on my face.”

“I’ve seen that hidden portrait of you when you were a first year. You had plenty of cheek to pinch.”

Lucius shrieked like he’d just read the birth announcement of another Weasley in the paper, hating any kind of reminder that he’d been a pudgy child. Harry straight out laughed at him, throwing his head back with abandon. His centre of balance tipped over to the point where even Lucius’ arm couldn’t hold him stable, and he went sailing off the armchair towards the floor.

Fortunately, even drunk, Lucius’ parental instincts were _impeccable._ The moment Harry overbalanced to the point of no return the wineglass was dropped to the floor, staining Severus’ carpet, and Lucius’ arms shot out, halting Harry’s fall just an inch away from the floor. 

Even upside down, Harry had not stopped laughing, and Severus soon joined him.

“Dammit Severus, don’t just sit there! Help me!” Lucius yelled, his arms wrapped around Harry’s upturned legs awkwardly. Honestly, Severus would have let him fall and called it a lesson learned, if he didn’t bounce on impact anyway, but Lucius would have probably had a conniption if he actually admitted it. 

So he took pity on his old friend and went to pick up his nephew. He carried Harry over to the sofa, where he immediately proceeded to turn himself upside down, head hanging off the edge and his feet over the backrest. Ridiculous child.

Lucius took that time to cast _Reparo_ on his glass and pour himself some more wine. “So in the end, all of my efforts have proven to be in vain. Oh woe is me.”

“Shut up,” Severus told him with a smirk, “It’s hardly the worst thing you’ve seen him do. Remember when he decided to climb the wall to the highest point of the Manor?”

“I remember that!” Harry exclaimed.

“And I would dearly like to forget,” Lucius muttered behind his glass, “But I was talking about you, running away whenever I tried to set you up with someone. Where did you even go? I searched every room at every banquet you ever disappeared from but I could never find you.”

Trust Lucius to stubbornly stick to a subject no matter how much Severus wanted it dropped. “I usually hid under the table. One thing those ridiculous tablecloths were good for. Regulus even joined me most of the time. We would drink pilfered champagne and talk shit about his brother. It was the only way to make those events bearable.”

“No wonder I couldn’t find you,” Lucius glared at him for all he was worth, “because most of us outgrow that hiding technique when we’re _ten._ ”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Lucius let out another little noise of despair and drank some more wine. Then he took another, much larger gulp when he noticed Harry looked like he was taking mental notes.

“This is what I get for trying to secure your future.” Lucius grumbled vaguely in his direction.

“I like to think I’m doing just fine.”

“You used to be ambitious, where did that go?”

Instead of answering Severus pointedly tilted his head in Harry’s direction. Harry, who had righted himself in the meantime, smiled back at him.

“Alright, point,” Lucius sighed, “So, Black family history. Where was I?”

“That there were a brother and sister, Cygnus and Walburga,” Harry reminded him.

“Right,” Lucius grabbed the wine bottle and topped off his glass, “Those two. Honestly, if one of them hadn’t made Narcissa I would have been quite happy never knowing either of them.”

Severus blinked at the far too candid answer. “Lucius? Just how much did you drink?”

“Not nearly enough to be telling this, Severus, but here we are,” Lucius waved a dismissive hand, “The three of those are a bane of my bloody existence Weasley can only hope to match.”

“Three?” Severus caught the slip of his tongue, a lightbulb going off in his head, “You mean the other uncle Regulus mentioned? Arcus or Arcturus or...?”

Lucius heaved another great sigh, like he was suffering great pain at Severus’ words, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Severus, there was another brother, Alphard. The one we _do not talk about._ ”

“Ah,” Severus nodded in understanding, “Like we do not talk about Narcissa’s sister Andromeda?”

“ _Yes, like we do not talk about Andromeda!”_

Severus didn’t even bother to hide his eyes rolling. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man!” Lucius growled, “One day when you get married and have to navigate the war zone that is a family dinner of your wife’s family, we’ll see who’s laughing!”

“Good thing I don’t plan on ever getting married then.”

“Every time you say that I get another ulcer, you know,” Lucius grumbled, “And even if you don’t, Herodion most certainly will, one day. Either way, _you_ will be the one hiding at _my_ house then.”

“Uncle Sev won’t have to hide,” Harry crossed his arms with a stubborn set to his chin, “‘Cause I will marry a nice girl with a nice family!”

Lucius stared at him for a long moment, then started laughing so hard he nearly spilled his wine again. Then laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Severus was starting to wonder if he should try casting a _Finite Incantatem_ at him.

“A nice girl…” Lucius wheezed, “With a nice family… Oh, thank you for that Herodion, I haven’t laughed this hard in _years_.”

“Why?” Harry asked indignantly, “How hard can it be?”

Lucius burst into laughter again.

“I think what Lucius is trying to say is that everybody has at least one unpleasant family member,” Severus leaned over to Harry to explain, “No matter how nice they themselves are.”

Harry scrunched his brow in thought for a moment, then rose up a bit to cup his hands around Severus’ ear. “ _Even Alyssa?_ ” he whispered.

“ _Yes, even Alyssa. Remember what Isobel said about her father?_ ” Severus whispered back. It seemed that Harry remembered that particular rant just fine, since he made a face and nodded in understanding.

“What are you two conspiring about back there?” Lucius asked with mock suspicion.

“We’re discussing whether or not we should Stun you and firecall St. Mungo’s,” Severus said before Harry could open his mouth.

“Not quite yet,” Lucius said cheerfully, “You might, though, if I have to listen through another of Walburga’s tirades. That woman is absolutely _insane,_ Severus. I’d be willing to put down money she’s the one Bellatrix got it from.”

“...Are you accusing her of what I think you are?”

“Hm, no, but I wouldn’t even be surprised if it was true,” Lucius shrugged, “Cygnus was certainly closer to her than he was to Druella. Though that wasn’t exactly _hard._ Dear Merlin, do you remember the Yuletide Ball in ‘72? Did I already start taking you to those then?”

“I was _twelve_ in 1972, so no,” Severus reminded him, “Why?”

“They started fighting like wild Wampus cats in the middle of the ballroom!” Lucius sounded delightedly scandalised, “Not even with magic, just fists and nails! They broke the table before Alphard managed to pull them off one another. Bellatrix was cackling like _mad!_ Narcissa was mortified. She was one of the debutantes at that ball, and it was only a few months since the whole scandal with Andromeda, and now her parents weren’t even keeping their little domestic at home. Still, Father was impressed with how she held onto her composure, and she was still a Black, mad parents or no, so he did allow me to court her, thank Merlin.”

“And you still wonder why I fought tooth and nail to _avoid_ the entire mess you people call a Social Season?” Severus asked him incredulously. 

“The Social Season is important for just that reason, Severus!” Lucius insisted, “Imagine you married someone _without_ knowing how they handle themselves in these situations. That’s how people like Cygnus end up married to people like Druella, and it all ends in disaster we witnessed at that ball. But honestly, even if I have no idea how their parents thought that particular arrangement would work out, I have even less of one why they _agreed_ to it.”

“You mean they had a _choice_?”

“Of course they had a choice, Severus, we’re not barbarians!” Lucius glared at him, “But it’s far too easy to make the _wrong_ choice, which is why your parents make the first arrangement, and if you’re agreeable you start courting. If the courting period goes well you proceed to the engagement, and eventually marriage, and you can’t exactly _undo that._ ”

Harry and Severus, both thinking the exact same thing, exchanged a knowing look. This was one of the many reasons why Harry wasn’t allowed to talk about the Fishers in front of the Malfoys, not least because God and Merlin help the poor fool who suggested Isobel should not have gotten divorced. 

“You know, my father used to threaten to marry me off to Bellatrix,” Lucius told him, then shuddered in remembrance, “He never went through with it because he _did_ want me to have children one day, and the last bloke that put his hand up her skirt _lost it.”_

“His fault if he didn’t ask her first,” Harry crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Fair enough,” Lucius nodded, “But most men prefer a woman who hexes first and mauls later if the message isn’t received. And Bellatrix was far too fond of cutting relevant appendages off even before the Dark Lord took her as his apprentice,” Lucius rolled his eyes, “No wonder she ended up marrying Rodolphus. That man was a bloody human glacier. There was a rumour going around that his parents carved him out of granite and cast a particularly strong _Locomotor_ charm on him, and considering what I’ve seen of him I’m disinclined to completely dismiss it. Even the finest metal can’t cut stone, so he was safe even if he did muster up the bollocks to ask Bellatrix for an heir.”

Severus blinked. “Rodolphus Lestrange? Are you sure? He seemed alright to me.”

“That’s because he liked you,” Lucius poured himself more wine as he talked, “He was as queer as they came. His parents despaired of ever finding him a wife he would actually find agreeable enough to produce an heir and who would tolerate his lovers. I swear, he only married Bellatrix because both of them were hopelessly in love with the Dark Lord. We used to joke that they were all sleeping together, but then it turned out to be true and we all had to get used to knocking on every single door when the Lord was visiting the Lestrange Manor.”

Severus didn’t know where to even start processing that information. “How did I not know about this?”

“You were mostly holed up down in the lab. Nobody dared to disturb you because you could work miracles down there, and because the one time Rabastan actually barged in on you, you blew a hole in the ceiling and straight through the roof.”

“...I remember that.”

“Half the county remembers that, Severus,” Lucius drawled, “You are lucky Rodolphus was smitten with you and the Dark Lord was mostly amused. Bellatrix wanted your head on a pike, though. You managed to blow up half of her room and most of her wardrobe. What were you even doing that produced such a reaction?”

“Considering our current audience, I think it would be best if it remained a mystery,” Severus growled through gritted teeth, pointedly nodding in Harry’s direction. 

“No, no, do go on,” Harry smirked and put his hands together in a way that reminded Severus of a Bond villain, “I would never say no to new blackmail material.”

“Blackmail?!” Severus spluttered as Lucius started laughing again, “How do you even know that word, you’re five!”

“Heard it on the telly,” Harry told him cheerfully.

“Well at least there is still hope for one of you!” Lucius crowed in delight, “We’ll make a proper Slytherin out of you yet!”

“Alright,” Severus shot up from the sofa and marched over to the Floo, “That’s enough Black history for today, don’t you have somewhere to be, Lucius?”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

“There’s an even better part?” Harry grinned in excitement and shot off the sofa to clamber into Lucius’ lap. He wrapped his arms around his Godfather’s waist hard enough to make Lucius choke a bit, “Tell me more!”

“Well, the man of the house has spoken, Severus,” Lucius smirked at Severus’ murderous glare and patted Harry’s back, “Ow, not so tight, love, I do need to breathe if you want me to talk.”

Harry loosened his death grip on Lucius but did not move one inch otherwise. Severus scowled hard enough to scare small children. Unfortunately, the only small child present just smiled at him impishly, so he sprawled himself across the sofa and crossed his arms.

“Very mature of you, Severus,” Lucius drawled behind his glass, “Where was I? Ah, I suppose everything so far is a rather accurate portrayal of the Black family, though not the one I’d intended to tell.”

“Colour me shocked,” Severus told him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lucius ignored him, focusing on Harry instead. “Do you remember when I said that Cygnus and Walburga belonged to the secondary branch of the Black family? Of the main branch, the inheritor of the title to the ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’ was Orion Black, the sole heir.”

“Didn’t he have a sister as well?” Severus asked, “The one with hair down to her knees and grey eyes?”

“Lucretia, yes,” Lucius nodded, “The worst case of wanderlust seen in centuries, my father swore. They had courted for a while before they decided they weren’t well suited for one another after all. The woman ended up marrying a redheaded Gryffindor, which is all you need to know about her tastes, honestly.”

“A Weasley?” Severus asked in disbelief.

“Not _that_ bad, Severus. She married Ignatius Prewett. I believe you met him once, actually, the one who thought it was an excellent idea to put a propelling charm on a pair of skates and went crashing through a window.”

“Oh, I remember. Wasn’t I related to him?”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, he and Conchobar Prince are cousins through their grandfather, I think,” Lucius tapped his chin in thought, “Yes, Brighid Prewett married Honoratus Prince, your great-grandfather. You were named after his brother, I believe.”

“Who was I named after?” Harry asked curiously.

“Hmm, _Herodion._ That’s Biblical, I think. Rowles had a few Herods over the generations, but they hadn’t intermarried with the Princes as far as I remember. The Selwyns-”

“In other words, we do not know,” Severus interrupted him sharply, hoping they wouldn’t go further into it, “You are likely the first of your name.”

“Unfortunately, your uncle is probably right,” Lucius sighed, “Or, for all we know, it could be a family name from your father’s side, and- Well, there is not much we know about him.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Severus growled in warning, “And I believe we’ve gotten off topic again.”

“Fine, fine. Let me up Little Prince,” Lucius leaned forward and flailed for the bottle of wine again. He upended it all into his glass, hopefully his last.

“Yes, that was the elder sister Black,” Lucius said after a sip, “Currently skiing in the Pyrenees, according to Walburga. Can’t say I blame the poor woman, I’d like to run away to France as well, but we make do.”

“I’m afraid my ski slope is in the other room, and you have to bring your own skis,” Severus drawled.

“Don’t joke like that, this wine is strong enough that I might believe you,” Lucius said and took another sip, “But back to our story, the younger brother and heir was Orion Black. Stiff and proper man as I remember him, though far too paranoid for his own good. Merlin help you if he got started on a lecture about wardstones and intruder traps,” Lucius shivered dramatically, “Sometimes I really wish I could Obliviate myself.”

“Surely it wasn’t that bad…”

“He warded Grimmauld Place himself. Do you want to know how far a thief's intestine can be scattered if they step foot through that house?”

“...no.”

“Exactly,” Lucius drank some more, “But no matter what he was like as a person, he was the one Walburga had her eyes on. Her way of inheriting the title without even changing her name,” Lucius grimaced, “No idea how she managed it, though. The man was paranoid and smart as a whip, so it was probably not with a love potion. Well, however she’d done it, she convinced him to marry her the same year he graduated. He was four years younger than her, you see, and the moment the vows were exchanged he left her the house and spent nearly a decade traipsing through Europe, and another four years ostensibly attending various Universities. Finally, Walburga all but dragged him back to England by the ear, since she couldn’t exactly make heirs by herself, now could she? Well, she could, but she needed Orion to at least conceivably be in England when she got pregnant.”

“ _Lucius_ ,” Severus warned him, but it was too late. Harry had that scrunch in his brow that meant he would be asking either Severus or Isobel uncomfortable questions the moment Lucius was out of earshot.

“Right, right,” Lucius waved his hand carelessly, “Anyway, twelve years of marriage later, came the happy announcement and a bouncing baby nine months later, Sirius Orion Black the Third. I got dragged to that naming ceremony and I could already tell that brat was going to be trouble.”

“Not that I disagree with you, but how?”

“Little fucker bit me, that’s how,” Lucius cursed, causing Harry to giggle. Severus could be rather foul-mouthed himself, but Lucius had never been anything short of prim and proper. Harry, the little Slytherin, was probably milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Severus tried restraining his grin long enough to form a sentence, “But aren’t naming ceremonies usually held _before_ the baby is born?”

“Where did you get that idea?” Lucius asked, “Not much point if you can’t parade your baby around.”

Severus frowned in thought. He was rather sure Isobel had told him about some kind of baby-celebration ceremony her elder sister had travelled all the way from Norway to attend while she was still pregnant with Alyssa. It could be that it was simply a Muggle one. It would hardly be the first quirk between cultures Severus got mixed up.

“He didn’t even have teeth yet and somehow managed to draw blood,” Lucius was still moaning, much to Harry’s delight, “Thankfully, Regulus was a much better behaved child. A bit too attached to that swamp-monster they called a House elf-”

He was interrupted in the middle of his speech by a loud gunshot bang right outside Severus’ front door. Severus was on his feet in an instant, wand at the ready and fully prepared to slice the intruder into ribbons.

“Severus?” Narcissa’s voice came from the door, sounding distraught, “Are you home?”

Severus blinked, but nevertheless went to open the door. Narcissa was indeed standing on his front step, her mascara running down her eyes in dramatic rivulets. 

“Oh Severus, it’s horrible!” Narcissa all but wailed right before she threw her arms around a bewildered Severus, “Aunt Walburga passed away right in front of the painter and the solicitor! Just perished still in her chair!”

“Really?” Lucius came behind them, Harry on his hip, “Finally! Er, I mean, um-”

“It was horrible!” Narcissa cried while Severus awkwardly pat her back, “She started talking about how she missed her children, and how there was only one who was still good, and how she shouldn’t have doubted him, that he made her proud after all, and then she- _She-_ ”

“Er, what did she do?” Severus asked.

“ _She left everything she owned to Sirius Black!”_ Narcissa wailed and started crying harder.

_I suppose that’s one way to derail an uncomfortable conversation,_ Severus thought and thanked Merlin his clothes were already black. He had a feeling he would be cried on for a while yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snakes have two hemipenises, hence Harry's confusion about his own- equipment.  
> The kids are watching Dungeons and Dragons.  
> Fortified wine is normal wine but with added alcohol.  
> As far as I know, all of the information Lucius spills about the Black family is either canon compliant, or headcanon that cannon does not dispute outright.  
> That last bit, Severus confused a Naming ceremony with a Baby Shower, which is indeed held before the baby is born.  
> If anyone is confused how everyone is related from Lucius' ramblings, family tree can be found [here](https://katoninetailswrites.tumblr.com/post/618019644710830080/the-wizards-nephew-chapter-12-if-anyone-was)
> 
> Uh, I think that's everything. Plot resumes in the next chapter.


	13. 1985: Two Deaths and a Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus attends a funeral, loses his children and talks with an old teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello from quarantine! *waves* It's day three, and I've managed to spit out 6000 words of this, making it the longest chapter yet. I might just finish this by the time they let me out.
> 
> **WARNING: Past referenced child abuse. Non-graphic.**

They did attend the funeral. It would have been improper if they hadn't. 

Narcissa made use of her tear-stained face to guilt and bully Severus and Harry into letting her dress and groom them both, and any time they tried to squirm out of her hairbrush-brandishing grip, she threatened to cry again.

Lucius, the traitorous bastard, just laughed at their misery.

Severus had been caught first, and ended up with his hair brushed and slicked back, with the ends teased into a half-curl upwards. He wore black robes, which wasn’t unusual, but these had little shoulder spikes and leather straps holding a floor length cape that billowed behind him. It made him look, for the lack of a better word, severe. Like a court sorcerer from the time of kings who decided to become a schoolteacher but never got around to changing his style.

Salazar Slytherin would have shed a tear of joy to see it, according to Narcissa.

Once Severus was done, Harry had been stuffed into an ulster coat with a velvety cape and subtle silvery embroidery along the edges. Narcissa had sat him down and brushed his hair with generous amounts of Sleekeazy, until it was perfectly flat, parted on one side so his bangs covered his birthmark. He was rather unhappy about it, but Narcissa insisted that it was proper. Draco had laughed up until he was caught as well and subjected to the same torture.

So that was how they found themselves standing quietly while the priest droned on and on in front of the Black Family crypt, where Walburga would be laid to her dubious rest. The ceremony itself was a curious mix of Pagan customs warped by time and Christianity yet somehow still stuck in the Victorian era, which was par for the course amongst wizards, as far as Severus knew. He’d never been to a wizarding funeral before. His own mother was buried in the same grave as his father, as his cousin had refused her the right of being buried with her ancestors.

The more he knew about Moira, the less he liked her. He’d have to make sure Harry didn’t go around asking about her. No need to get an unfavourable view of his ‘mother’. 

“Uncle Sev,” Harry whispered halfway through the choir singing the ‘Dies Irae’, looking up at him pleadingly, “How much longer is this?”

“Shhh,” Lucius shushed him before Severus could do anything, “A little more, and then Cygnus will bring her into the crypt, and there will be the reception. Behave until then.”

Harry let out a miserable sigh but straightened out his back, clasped his hands and waited with his best expression of polite patience. Next to him, Draco did the same, though it was obvious he had more practice than Harry. Fifteen minutes in, Harry shuffled a little closer to Severus so he could lean his shoulder against his uncle’s leg. He was unused to standing still for so long and Severus was, quite frankly, impressed he’d lasted this long. 

“We’re almost done,” Severus assured him with a little pat to his back. 

Harry didn’t look like he entirely believed him. Draco had to elbow him back into proper posture, which Harry did but with an expression that bordered on mutinous.

Thankfully, Severus was right when he said that it was almost over. Once the priest and the solicitor were done, Cygnus Black detached himself from the crowd of attendees with a grim look on his face. He went up to the gates of the crypt and cast a mild cutting curse on his palm. He pressed it on the carved stone imprint of a hand, which absorbed his blood and, with an ominous red glow around the edges, the gates slowly opened inwards.

“Blood magic,” Draco whispered next to Harry, “Very old, very powerful. Even we don’t have something like that, just regular wards and-”

“Shhh,” Lucius reprimanded him sharply.

Once the gates were open Cygnus wordlessly levitated Walburga’s coffin and walked into the crypt. From what Narcissa had told him while he had been subjected to her torture, he was supposed to lay it down on a stone array deep in the crypt, next to Orion. It was magically connected to the tapestry in the Black townhouse, and the moment her coffin was laid on its ‘branch’, the tapestry would mark that as her date of death.

Severus would have done some extremely illegal and morally questionable things for an opportunity to study how the old Blacks had done it. It was, apparently, done by Licorus Black, back in the nineteenth century. The bodies of his ancestors, any that could be preserved, had been exhumed and brought to the crypt reaching miles underground and laid down in their places of honour. It was one of the reasons why the Black family could trace their lineage so far back but their tapestry started with Licorus and his siblings.

Narcissa admitted that when she was little, Bellatrix used to scare her with stories about how Licorus had actually been Bloodborn Necromancer, and how all the bodies ever laid in the cemetery around the crypt would rise and turn any intruder into an Inferus, to become the next undead generation to guard the crypts, and to ensure the members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could rest in peace.

Knowing what he knew of Licorus Black, the most infamous Black ancestor, Severus wasn’t entirely certain that Bellatrix had been lying. The man was probably not a Bloodborn, since his children would have been Necromancers as well if he was, but Necromancy did not seem like something he would have shied away from regardless.

Finally, Cygnus came out of the crypt, which closed its stone gates behind him. 

“Walburga Black has been laid to rest,” he announced in a grim tone, which signalled the end of ceremony and the beginning of reception.

Harry and Draco shot off towards the banquet table, laid heavy with funeral-appropriate foods, while Severus, Lucius and Narcissa followed at a more appropriate pace.

“Left everything she owned to the son she had previously disowned,” Narcissa shook her head sadly, “How that healer managed to pronounce her _compos mentis,_ I will never know.”

“Hmpf, that particular Black is in Azkaban for life,” Severus told her, “And I doubt the Dementors would be willing to write down his will. You only need to wait a few more years.”

Narcissa glared at him hard enough to make him freeze in his tracks, her eyes welling up with tears. “My sister is in that horrid place too, in case you’ve forgotten. I would thank you not to try and offer any further comforting words, Severus, lest you do more damage.”

And with that, she stomped away from them, patting her eyes with a kerchief, carefully so as not smear her makeup.

“I suppose that could have gone better,” Severus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, it really could have,” Lucius nodded, “I’ll go after her. Do try to keep an eye on the children, would you?”

Lucius went off after Narcissa without waiting for Severus’ answer. So he just sighed yet again and did as he was told.

Unfortunately, some ten minutes later, it seemed he was out of luck. He’d walked the entire length and width of the reception but the only children he found were not the ones he’d been looking for. It was like looking for a needle in a bloody haystack! The reception was being held outside, within the perimeter of the graveyard, but the Blacks were related to _everyone,_ and thus nearly every single Pureblood witch and wizard in the British Isles was here, including their children, and everyone was wearing black.

Honestly, the _one time_ he hadn’t cast a tracking charm on Harry’s shoes…

He was starting to eye the trees suspiciously, because he wouldn’t put it past Harry to talk Draco into climbing them in their formal robes, when he heard a distantly familiar voice.

“Severus Snape?” Minerva McGonagall asked in astonishment, hair brushed back into a tight bun and her eyes partially concealed by the black mesh of her funeral hat, “I must admit I did not expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing, Professor,” Severus told her with his eyebrow raised questioningly.

McGonagall snorted inelegantly. “Walburga was in the same year as I was, and a rival Prefect. I thought I should come pay my respects, few as they are, since attending funerals is the only thing I seem to be doing this year.”

Ah, yes. Severus distantly remembered reading about the Acromantula accident that had taken the life of Elphinstone Urquart several months ago. 

“My condolences for your husband,” Severus tipped his head in respect.

“Thank you,” McGonagall nodded, “I’ve had time to grieve. Though I did not expect to see another one of my generation buried so soon,” she turned a gimlet eye back to Severus, “I wasn’t aware you knew the late Lady Black, though.”

“I came with the Malfoys,” Severus drawled, “Walburga was Narcissa’s aunt.”

“I see. To offer emotional support?”

“Hardly. Mostly as a glorified babysitter,” Severus scowled, “Though there will be little glory in it, considering I’ve managed to misplace both of them.”

“Both?” McGonagall sounded puzzled, “I was under the impression Lucius and Narcissa had only one child.”

Severus managed not to freeze, but he cursed long and creatively in his mind for that little slip-up. Harry’s existence was hardly a secret amongst the high wizarding families, so he hadn’t thought to watch his tongue. But Minerva McGonagall was loyal to Dumbledore through and through, there were absolutely no chances he could avoid this entire conversation being recounted over tea. Severus had few options here.

He could say it was a child of another family, a friend of Draco’s. But the potential for it falling apart was too great. The reception would last for hours yet, whether he liked it or not McGonagall would see Harry at some point, and draw her own conclusions if the answers weren’t provided. 

She wasn’t a Legillimens, as far as he knew, but she had been a teacher for well over a decade, she could sniff out a liar a mile away. Quite possibly literally. If Severus acted like he had something to hide, McGonagall would assume the worst. Dumbledore’s decree or not, the outline of the Dark Mark on his forearm was still damning in the eyes of anyone who had sided against Voldemort.

There was only one option here, really.

“No, they still have only one,” Severus told her, his voice without inflection, “The other is my nephew.”

Hide in plain sight. Parade it in front of their noses, saying you had nothing to hide.

“Nephew?” McGonagall sounded even more puzzled, but not suspicious just yet, “I was unaware you had any siblings.”

“I don’t,” Severus shrugged slightly, “He’s Moira Prince’s son, and technically my cousin once removed, but it’s less of a mouthful to call him my nephew.”

“I see,” McGonagall nodded, seemingly accepting the information at face value, but a suspicious gleam shone in her eye when she recognised the name. 

“Pardon me for being rude, but I really should find my godson and nephew before they get into any mischief,” Severus nodded at her and went to leave.

“I’ll help you,” McGonagall followed him, unfortunately, “I’m a teacher, Mr. Snape, if there is one thing I’m good at it’s locating mischief-makers.”

“Of course you are,” Severus didn’t quite manage to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but didn’t try to shake her off either. He put it down to the fact that he had gotten far too accustomed to nosy but well-meaning Scottish women.

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t have much appreciation for those,” McGonagall smiled somewhat wryly.

“I would have been much more impressed if you’d used those skills more on the members of your own house,” Severus said mildly.

“I certainly tried,” McGonagall said, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked around the graveyard, “But if you’re talking about certain four boys in your year, they were too wily even for me. Albus later told me that was in part because James Potter had a Cloak of Invisibility.”

 _Of course he bloody well did._ “Of course he did.”

“Is that bitterness I detect in your voice, Mr. Snape?” McGonagall asked, her eyebrow raised, “The man is dead, along with his entire family. Surely you could let your grudges die as well.”

“You’re right,” Severus turned to her with a smile that was anything but nice, “I should follow your example. Such high hopes you had for them, only for two of them to end up murdered, one running with the wolves Merlin knows where, and the other in Azkaban for being a secret Death Eater and a traitor. I’m sure your hopes and dreams for them are just fine where you’ve buried them.”

McGonagall’s face turned stony cold. “Indeed they are. And how about yours? What have you been doing with your life since your master died?”

“I have no masters, Professor. Our esteemed Headmaster saw to that,” Severus told her equally coldly.

“I notice you haven’t answered my question.”

Nosy old grimalkin. “I’ve found a job supplying two apothecaries with potions, and I’ve been busy raising my nephew. I’m sure even you cannot find that untoward.”

His words seemed to have surprised her. “Raising him? What about his parents?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” This time Severus was the one raising an impetuous eyebrow, “Moira Prince was killed in the war. Before she died she left her son with a letter and a Bloodtracker spell, which found its way to me. I’m sure you can draw your own conclusions about what happened to his father from that.”

Evidently, McGonagall _hadn’t_ heard of it, otherwise she wouldn’t have been sputtering so much. She collected her wits rather quickly, though. Pity. It was rather entertaining to watch. “I see… And how have you been finding… Family life?”

“Evidently, I have _not_ been finding it, considering you’re currently helping me look.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes at that, but some of that coldness melted out of her face. “Cheeky. You know what I mean. Taking care of children isn’t easy even when you’ve planned for them, I imagine suddenly being responsible for one you didn’t even make is even harder.”

She wasn’t wrong. “I’ve had help.”

“Oh? From whom?”

“Lucius and Narcissa, for one,” Severus said and left it at that. Dumbledore was already pestering him about his non-existent romantic life, the last thing he wanted was for the old man to find out about Isobel. She’d had enough problems with men in her life, Severus had no intention of becoming another one. “Which is how I got stuck looking after them.”

“Are they always this slippery?” McGonagall asked, now frowning herself. They’d done another round of scouting the perimeter of the reception without much luck, and she was starting to get worried as well.

“Only at formal events,” Severus said, “Draco can be bribed to behave, but Herodion likes these things about as much as I do.”

“Herodion? Is that your nephew’s name?”

“Yes.”

“And his family name?” McGonagall asked suspiciously.

“Prince. My esteemed cousin had conveniently forgotten to mention what her lover’s last name was.”

McGonagall may not have been very well versed in Pureblood politics, but she was smart and she could read between lines just fine. “He’s a Halfblood?”

“Perhaps,” Severus said, “We would never know.”

For some reason, that information made McGonagall stop looking at him in suspicion and start looking in curiosity. It annoyed Severus to no end, that his old teacher now thought she knew him even though she objectively knew _nothing_ , but Harry and Draco weren’t showing up and he was unlikely to get rid of her until they did surface.

In the end they did go to check out the trees, and while McGonagall made it clear she was silently laughing at his predicament she did help him make sure they hadn’t climbed any perilously high points. 

“At the risk of sounding ridiculous,” Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose in consternation, after they’d gone around the entire graveyard a third time, “Would you be able to... sniff them out in a bit more literal sense?”

“I could, actually,” McGonagall pursed her lips in displeasure, likely because two prepubescent children had managed to outsmart her, “If I’d met them as a cat before. At this point, I’d be willing to try if I’d met them _at all._ ”

If Severus had been consulted, she would have been conveniently retired sometime before Harry’s eleventh birthday, and the next Transfiguration teacher would have been one who had never met James Potter. As it was, perhaps it would be for the best if she met Harry now, with his hair slicked down and dressed in formal robes, when his likeness to the elder Potter was nearly nonexistent.

“I suppose it would serve you well to know what you will be dealing with in about six years,” Severus conceded.

“Indeed it would,” McGonagall nodded, “Yours doesn’t have an Invisibility Cloak, does he?”

“Mine doesn’t, although I cannot say for certain about Draco, so I would suggest you do not let down your guard.”

He’d meant it as a warning, but instead of horror, McGonagall’s face turned into an unholy grin. “Just as well. I was getting bored with the current crop of students. Perhaps yours will make things more interesting.”

Severus stared at her for a long second and decided, for the second time in his life, that Minerva McGonagall was not to be crossed for any possible reason. 

Apparently satisfied with that, McGonagall nodded firmly and continued on her way. Severus followed her somewhat warily.

McGonagall was silent for a long while, seemingly engrossed in her search. When she finally spoke, it was with an unexpected announcement: “Albus talks about you sometimes.”

“Does he now?” Severus asked, hoping his apprehension did not show on his face.

“He’s mentioned how you’ve been faring since… _certain someone’s_ downfall. I must confess, from what I remembered of you I could hardly believe what he’s been saying.”

“Surprised I’m not wearing striped pyjamas, are you?” Severus raised an eyebrow in her direction. It spoke volumes of his opinion.

“Partially,” McGonagall was honest at least, “But now that I’m thinking of it… He hasn’t mentioned your nephew. Not once, I don’t think.”

Severus stopped dead in his tracks, his fists clenched so hard he was probably leaving indents in his palm. “And I suppose you are going to tell him all about it, aren’t you?”

“...Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” McGonagall asked cautiously.

“Your opinion of me is hardly singular. I’ve heard it from every single person I know at least once: how I am _unsuited_ to being a parent, despite having managed fine so far. I’d rather not be scrutinised by someone with the power to take Herodion away should they find me _wanting_.”

 _Wanting._ Severus hated that word. In both its meanings, it either implied or outright stated a deficiency of character. Something you lacked but needed desperately, yet the precise lack of it stopped people from giving it to you. It was a wretched word, one that had described the entirety of Severus’ childhood and a part of his adult life. It was an adjective he had been trying to shed for just as long.

 _Wanting._ For the first time in his life, he did not feel that word described or defined him. He did not miss it. He did not want it back.

McGonagall seemed to divine something from his expression that made her pause. For a moment she looked just as pensive as Severus did, then she seemingly came to a decision. “I was just thinking, if Albus hasn’t mentioned him and I haven’t seen him the entire time I was here, if you were perhaps leading me on a wild goose chase. I would dearly like to meet someone of his mettle, if he is indeed a real person.”

 _I will reserve my judgement until I see him for myself,_ Severus translated. He supposed it was as good as he was going to get.

“Ah, Minerva, there you are!” Luckily, an unwitting distraction presented itself.

Horace Slughorn, nose already red from undetermined but surely copious amounts of wine from the banquet, came walking over to Severus and McGonagall.

“What, Horace?” McGonagall snapped at him, “I was in the middle of a conversation.”

“Oh, yes, of course, well, I-” Slughorn stuttered, obviously forgetting what he’d been meaning to talk to McGonagall about the moment her magnificent glare was turned on him. Then he spotted Severus and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Merlin’s beard!” Slughorn looked ready to fall all over himself. “If it isn’t Severus Snape!”

“Indeed,” Severus crossed his arms and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Why in the world was Slughorn even paying attention to him?

“Oh, I’ve heard great things about you!” Slughorn crowed, apparently oblivious to both Severus’ and McGonagall’s disdain, “Why, Roger could hardly talk about anything else, even with his favourite teacher! And I’ve read those improvements you published on Damocles Belby’s work, you’ve done half the work for the lad!”

The second unimpressed eyebrow joined the first. It was true that he’d been in contact with other potioneers, mostly those whose works Sellick kept pushing under his nose. The Apothecary owner was of a similar mind to Lucius and insisted that Severus’ talents were criminally underused just working on everyday potions. So Sellick often gave Severus potions magazines with new recipes he thought interesting and encouraged Severus to do his own experiments, even if he had to brew the potions for the Apothecary himself. He’d even taken care of publishing whatever written work Severus handed in, apparently in a prestigious enough magazine that even Slughorn deigned to read it.

Not for the first time, he thought Roger Sellick would have gotten along splendidly with Isobel Fisher.

And Severus would rue the day they were introduced, but that was another matter entirely.

Horace Slughorn, on the other hand, was more interested in scoping out the competition. Severus was almost certain Sellick had mentioned they’d been outselling his own potions shop, Slug & Jiggers. Possibly he was also hoping to snap up Severus for his employee. Now that Severus had made his mark in the academic circles Slughorn wanted to claim credit. 

_Fat chance of that, you old bastard._ Never let it be said that Severus let his grudges die a peaceful death.

Slughorn faltered when Severus did nothing but stare at him with his arms crossed. McGonagall was doing the exact same thing, except the corner of her mouth kept twitching upwards the longer Slughorn was squirming. 

But Slughorn had not made it this far without knowing when to cut his losses. He mumbled insincere apologies, then pretended to spot another one of his promising students and shuffled off.

“Far be it from me to speak ill of a colleague,” McGonagall said in a tone that strongly implied she would dearly like to speak some very ill things, “but I never understood that man. In Hogwarts, he was a good professor for the most part, and cared about his students. But the moment they left school it’s like they became nothing more than pathways to glory and money and- and nothing more than _connections._ ”

“Yes, I’m familiar with his methods,” Severus drawled.

“He taught Walburga as well, you know,” McGonagall continued, seeming not to require his input, “She was excellent at potions and transfiguration both. Horace used to mourn the fact she hadn’t been born a man, or at least not a noble lady. Saying that he could have introduced her to Flamel himself and had gotten her any kind of apprenticeship with any alchemist he knew. But now that she’s dead he is only interested in wine and her relatives!”

“I imagine the dead have no use for such connections,” Severus told her, “And the longer you run in the aristocratic circles, the more you realise everything comes down to three things: power, money and influence.”

“That’s a rather cold life to live.”

“Perhaps,” Severus said noncommittally, “But I suppose that, to people who have never known anything different, any other way of life is unimaginable.”

“And you?” McGonagall once again turned a gimlet eye on him, “You’ve tasted both of the extremes. Where did you land?”

“Somewhere I like to imagine as the golden middle,” Severus told her primly, and didn’t elaborate, “As for Walburga… She wasn’t exactly a pleasant woman to remember.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t known her,” McGonagall rebuked him but didn’t deny it. 

“I hadn’t. But I was friends with Regulus. I didn’t need to know the woman, I just needed to know her son’s injuries to form an opinion of her.”

McGonagall’s face tightened and for a long moment she didn’t say anything. Severus did not fail to notice that she hadn’t said a word to disagree with him. Wary of spilling even more information he didn’t want to air out like dirty laundry, he let the matter drop.

They eventually wandered over to the banquet table for refreshments and to recuperate. Severus hadn’t yet sunk so low as to ask the other attendants if they’d seen his wayward nephew and godson, but if they didn’t surface soon he just might.

But he wasn’t too worried. Most of the people here had heard of Moira Prince’s orphaned son, being raised by her estranged cousin, and at least acknowledged him if not outright accepted him. Harry was as safe at this gathering as he was going to get amongst other wizards that had largely skewed towards Voldemort’s ideology. Not to mention that he was with the Malfoy heir.

The Malfoy’s tolerance of Halfbloods was well known and blamed on their French roots, but their acceptance went a long way to opening the minds of other Purebloods. It also helped that people were generally unsure if Harry was a Halfblood or if Moira Prince had had an affair with a Blood Traitor and that was the reason she had given her son her own family name and never married her lover. After all, Cedrella Black had been burned off her family tapestry for doing just that.

There was no proof either way, and Severus was certainly not going to disabuse them of either opinion, which Lucius and Narcissa whole-heartedly agreed on. People generally assumed whatever they found most palatable. 

Somewhat ironically, it also helped that Severus had not been granted access to the Prince inheritance, which was waiting and collecting interest until Herodion was of age, excluding a monthly stipend. To the Pureblood elite, Severus Snape was the most palatable type of Halfblood: the one who was useful and preached their ideals yet knew his place and did not try to rise above it. 

Once, it would have galled Severus something terrible. But he had grown up since then, and couldn’t help finding them horribly petty and short-sighted. Here they were, people who had nearly everything, and yet were just as wanting as Severus had been at his lowest and poorest. Petty minds and fake smiles, only thinking how to rise higher while stepping on as many people going up as they could. 

_Golden middle indeed,_ Severus mused, thinking of what he said to McGonagall.

And speaking of his former professor, it seemed Severus hadn’t been the only one lost in thought. She was twirling a glass of red wine and staring blankly at its bloody surface. “Snape? Can I ask you something?”

“About what?”

“I was just thinking, now that you mentioned him…” McGonagall sighed sadly, “With Walburga and Orion dead, and Sirius- in Azkaban… What became of Regulus Black? You mentioned you two were friends and I haven’t heard anything about him since the war.”

“...I don’t know,” Severus told her honestly, taken aback by her question, “I’ve read his obituary right before my trial, but the Ministry hadn’t found the body. Perhaps he is dead, perhaps he is not. I like to think he’d taken his share of the Black fortune and left us all behind to start anew, without the war and his family casting a shadow over his life. That he finally escaped it.”

“...I hope so as well,” McGonagall sighed, “I know some of what went on in that house. But we were just as helpless to stop it as we were to help you.” Severus froze at her words. Was she saying-

“We’re not blind, Mr. Snape,” McGonagall continued, not looking at him, “nor are we cruel. Mr. Malfoy came to Horace less than a month after you sat for your sorting, and Horace went to Albus. But your case was set up as if to thwart us at every turn. We couldn’t interfere with your Muggle father, and unless your mother gave even a hint of needing help we couldn’t do anything for her. And we knew we couldn’t do anything if we weren’t certain it was going to work, otherwise we would have just made things worse,” she frowned at her wine as it had personally insulted her. 

“It was also why we couldn’t do anything for Sirius and Regulus either. If we even tried the Blacks had enough money and connections to drown out both Albus’ and Horace’s voices along with mine, and we could have only made it worse no matter what we tried. And the war was just on the horizon then, we couldn’t afford to lose the battle before we even started fighting. So we had to leave them and you there, and hope for the best,” McGonagall sighed sadly, in the misery of someone who had seen war yet it was still the least of her nightmares, “Sometimes I hate being a teacher.”

Severus stood next to her, looking at her in quite a different light. Darker or brighter, he didn’t know. She’d known what he and Regulus had been through, what waited for them at home every summer, and still sent them back. But what else could she do? Remove Severus only to have the Ministry send him back because nobody else wanted to take him? Kidnap him and hope the Aurors wouldn’t find out? Kill both their abusers and go to Azkaban? All the scenarios Severus had entertained at least once, and had known even then they would not have worked.

Severus was mature enough to realise she’d had about as much choice in it as he did, and when it came down to it she’d picked the lesser evil, no matter how much she hated it.

He remembered how much Lily had hated those choices as well.

“It’s over now,” Severus told her, “One way or another.”

“Aye, yours might be. But what about all the others?” McGonagall asked, “All the other children who come begging to us to let them stay in Hogwarts for the summer? Those who we have to turn away time and time again? How will they find their ending? And how many more are going to end up like you, and how many like Sirius? Lesser evil is still evil, and yet the worst sin is not choosing at all. Damned whatever you do or don’t do, blast it all to the pits of Hell.”

Severus didn’t have an answer to that. “I think you’ve had too much wine.”

McGonagall snorted and simply upended her glass, letting the expensive liquid spill to the ground as if it was mere water. “There. Libations, since we're being traditional. I always hated wine, anyway.”

Severus looked down at the rivulets of wine forming tiny rivers at their feet. A memory came unbidden, of a friend long lost doing the exact same thing, at a different banquet and a different lifetime.

“So did Regulus,” the words slipped from Severus’ mouth before he could stop them, “He only liked Champagne, and only one sort at that. Even if it wasn’t served at whatever event we were dragged to, he always managed to get his hands on at least one bottle, and he would bring it with him to-”

Severus stopped as abruptly as a record scratch when he realised what he was going to say. What he’d _already_ said two weeks ago in the presence of the nephew he couldn’t currently find no matter where he looked.

“Mr. Snape?” McGonagall asked in concern, “What’s wrong?”

“They wouldn’t…” Severus muttered to himself, looking at the banquet tablecloth, covering an outdoor table that was about the same length as the Malfoy hall. 

Plenty of space to hide two boys...

_There._

A few yards away from where Severus was standing, opposite where Cygnus Black was holding court, the tablecloth _rippled_.

Severus set his glass down on the table with an audible thud and all but stormed over to the suspicious spot and yanked the tablecloth up.

Sure enough, two pairs of eyes, one grey and one black, looked at him in surprise and not a little guilt. There was little doubt just what they’d been doing all this time, safely hidden from sight and with their ears pressed to the tablecloth.

“What,” Severus growled, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Er,” Harry’s eyes darted from Draco to Severus. He shrugged and smiled guiltily. “Avoiding sunburn?” 

While the weather outside might be what was considered good here in England, the sun was nowhere near showing its face. Severus’ glare intensified.

“So this is the famed nephew,” McGonagall remarked in amusement as she bent over to see underneath the table, “Your reputation precedes you, young man.”

“Er,” Harry went from looking guilty to looking bewildered, “Who are you? Ow!”

“That’s Professor McGonagall!” Draco hissed in his ear.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” Harry rubbed the bruised spot where Draco elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m sure proper introductions can be made _after_ you’re in a more dignified position for them,” Severus remarked pointedly. He raised a commanding eyebrow for good measure.

Harry and Draco sullenly trooped out from their hiding place and introduced themselves to McGonagall with as much grace as they could muster. The fact that McGonagall was rather obviously, if silently, laughing at them did not make it any easier. 

“I hope you realise this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated in Hogwarts,” she told them sternly once they finished.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry and Draco obediently chorused. 

McGonagall looked like she didn’t believe them one bit. She turned to Severus with an unimpressed look. “Well, I’d say you have nothing to worry about with these two. If they aren’t Slytherins I’ll eat the Hat myself.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Severus smirked, and might have puffed up with pride a little. Might have. 

McGonagall’s only response was to roll her eyes. “Yes, you would. But now that your nephew has been found, I think I earned some bleedin’ Firewhisky for this.” 

She turned sombre once again, looking at Harry. The boy just started looking nervous when she sighed and turned to Severus with a solemn look. “And Albus will hear nothing from me.”

“Thank you,” Severus nodded to her. After that, McGonagall bid her farewells and walked away.

Harry tugged on Severus’ cape. “What was that about?”

“A discussion of things long since passed,” Severus told him, “She was my teacher at Hogwarts as well.”

“Really?! But I thought you two are the same age!”

“Are you calling me old? I’m twenty-five, you brat!” Severus growled at him.

“Yeah, but that’s _ancient!”_

“You know,” Lucius’ voice came suddenly, steadily approaching them with Narcissa once again composed next to him, “In my day Slytherins had a bit more self-preservation instinct than that.”

“What’s self-preservation?”

“I think you just proved father’s point,” Draco muttered in exasperation. 

“Where have you two been?” Narcissa interjected before another argument could start, “I’ve been keeping an eye out but I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

“They’ve been spying on the guests, that’s where they’ve been,” Severus told them, “I found them hiding under the table.”

In a somewhat creepy display of synchronicity, Lucius and Narcissa’s eyes turned to Harry and Draco with identical expressions of disapproval. Harry stood his ground, or at least tried to. Draco caved like wet parchment.

“It wasn’t even that interesting,” Draco hedged, “For some reason everybody was very concerned where everyone was sleeping. And with who, but we couldn’t figure out what that was about.” 

The adults all had a rather uncomfortable realisation just what the funeralgoers had been talking about when they thought children weren’t listening.

“I think we’ve stayed long enough that leaving wouldn’t be impolite anymore, don’t you think?” Lucius hurriedly said and started ushering them all towards the Apparition point. 

“Adults are actually very boring,” Draco continued, “I expected something… I don’t know, more exciting.”

“Yeah, the most interesting bit we got was that someone named Dursley is probably hiding something important. We don't know what it is though,” Harry had the gall to shoot a reproachful look Severus’ way. “We would have found out if _someone_ hadn’t interrupted us.”

Severus didn’t even dignify that with a response except to cuff him over the head lightly. Narcissa laughed behind her hand.

“It was probably nothing,” Narcissa assured him, “Adults are boring that way, as you said. It was probably just an artefact only historians and collectors would be interested in.”

“Hmph,” Harry grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooooh, foreshadowing. 
> 
> A bit of worldbuilding on this one. I have reblogged a few posts on my Tumblr that are about to be VERY relevant. Also, if you want to imagine Snape's outfit, imagine Avengers' Loki, but in black instead of green. Trololololo
> 
> Any questions? Comments feed my depraved soul and are pretty much my only point of social contact here. So, whatever you write, you are feeding the author. And rescuing whatever bit of sanity I have left.
> 
> EDIT: Fuck, almost forgot. Updated tags.


	14. 1985: Hide and Don’t Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old ghosts rise, and all three different aspects of Severus’ life threaten to collide.
> 
> Something has to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control. NONE. You might have noticed this chapter is 10k+. I have lost all sense of measure I might have had. Imma go eat a whole tub of pasta because this is my life now.  
> Also I've had to code certain parts in HTML again, boi that took me back. Also reminds me how fuckin rusty I am.
> 
> EDIT: OMG people, I go away for 24 hours and this fic breaks 10k views and I'm swamped with lovely, beautiful, wonderful comments immediately AAAAAAAAAAAAHhh!!!! *ahem* Of course, some questions were raised, so there will be minor changes to fill in the gaps. 
> 
> **WARNING: Mention of murder, torture and gore. Non-graphic.**

_Whoever said ‘third time’s the charm’ ought to be shot. Preferably with the Killing Curse._

It was the 12th of July, a day before Herodion’s birthday, and Severus Snape was once again hurriedly dragging his two children away from a screaming zoo attendant. Behind them several guards and other attendants were running around trying to contain the pack of escaped chimps.

One, a baby, had nearly escaped the zoo itself by clinging to Alyssa’s back, and was actually the reason for the attendant’s panicked screeching.

They did give it back. Eventually.

Needless to say, they were summarily banned from that zoo as well.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Severus lamented for the third time in as many years, “This is not a tradition we should be upholding.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Alyssa said apologetically, though it lost some of its impact with her panting breaths, “I just wanted- To see if they could- Talk too, but- It’s a lot harder with- Out someone to translate.”

“Well whatever you managed to say to them, it doesn’t seem like they are going to forget it anytime soon,” Severus grumbled and ran faster.

As per tradition, Harry had begged and pleaded and cajoled and wheedled for a trip to the zoo for his birthday. And like a complete idiot Severus was, he’d agreed despite his better judgement. Apparently, the herd of wild deer and an escaped Brazilian Boa had not been lesson enough, they had to go find another zoo to get banned from.

Though, to be fair, this one was Alyssa’s fault instead of Harry’s. 

“We’re probably blacklisted by every zoo in England at this point,” Severus told them when they could finally stop running away from angry zoo attendants, “We are literally running three for three. What did you even _say_ to those blasted apes to get them so worked up?”

“I’m not sure?” Alyssa shrugged, “I _thought_ I was introducing us. But then the leader, or at least I think he was the leader, started screaming, and I couldn’t understand them and then Mifi squeezed through the net on the ceiling, and they demanded her back and I showed them where I can return her, but I guess the lock was kinda old-”

“Actually,” Severus interrupted her, already trying to stave off a headache, “I think it’s better I don’t know. Otherwise they might just throw us in prison instead of banning us.”

“Sorry,” Alyssa grimaced, “But it really is a lot harder to figure out without someone translating in between.”

“Yeah, my magic only works for snakes,” Harry added from Severus’ other side, “I can’t even understand most lizards.”

For his own peace of mind, Severus decided to ignore the ‘most’ part of that sentence. If it turned out that Harry could talk to dragons as well Severus might just discard his better judgement and take up drinking as a hobby. 

He did not have the genes of a good drunk, and he decided long ago he did not want to test it. 

There were times he was sorely tempted, though. 

Once he was sure nobody was following them, human or chimp alike, Severus dragged Harry and Alyssa to a suitably dark alley. Knowing the drill by now, they wrapped their arms around each of his legs and waited to be Apparated away. Thankfully, they were small so it didn’t cost Severus too much power to Side-along them all the way to Spinner’s End, despite the distance. It did push his limit though, and caused him to lean against the wall with a groan. He decided to do the dishes another day. Or better yet, make the brats do them.

“Soooo,” Alyssa drawled and shifted her eyes away from Severus, “Is this another thing I’m not supposed to tell mum about?”

And just like that, Severus’ headache was back. “I would appreciate it, yes.”

Harry, who handled Apparition worse than Alyssa did and was thus still a little green around the gills, nevertheless managed to give a weak laugh. So Severus made good on his promise and banished them to the kitchen to wash dishes. 

Harry stood on a stool and dunked and scrubbed plates, pots and cutlery while Alyssa brandished a rag to dry them and put them away. Putting dishes away used to be Severus’ part, since he used to be the only one tall enough to reach the cupboards. But Alyssa had a recent growth spurt, and at only seven years old she was tall enough to reach everything but the high shelves, on which only spices sat anyway. She was pleased as punch with this new development, and liked to proclaim she didn’t need magic when she had ‘such magnificent height’.

That was a direct quote, by the way. 

Privately, Severus thought she would get along with Hagrid pretty well. The half-giant would be ecstatic to get banned from every zoo in England and beyond with them.

Of course, once they were done Severus had to be shown all the nice and clean dishes, and it would be pointless if they remained so clean, wouldn’t it? You know what we should do? Scones. We should do scones. 

Which was how Severus found himself kneading dough for scones and the two gremlins he was in charge of nowhere to be found. Well, that was not true. He could hear them just fine from Harry’s room. It was something about the Emperor of the Moon and his earthly friends trying to rescue him from loneliness, far as Severus could tell. The fact that they were supposed to be helping him had been rather conveniently forgotten. Still, there was nobody to see him so Severus allowed himself an indulgent smile and continued making scones.

It was the perfect picture of domestic bliss. The only thing missing was Isobel bantering with him over a cup of tea and the scene could have been a picture in a housewife’s magazine. 

So of course it had to go terribly wrong.

Severus had just closed the oven and set the magical timer when the Floo flared green. Lucius stumbled out with only a shred of his usual grace and his face trying its best to match the colour of his hair. 

“Have you seen the paper?” were his greeting words. Before Severus could ask him what in seven hells he was on, the aforementioned paper was shoved into his face and the reason for Lucius’ panic became clear.

## MUGGLE FAMILY BRUTALLY MURDERED

The title practically jumped out at him, taking up half the front page. That in itself would have garnered little more than an eye roll from the Malfoy patriarch, had it not been for marginally smaller letters one paragraph under the headline.

#### DEATH EATERS SEEN LEAVING THE SCENE

“Did you know about this?” Severus asked.

“Do I look like I knew about it?!” Lucius hissed through clenched teeth. “I took your warning about Dumbledore watching to heart, you can be sure of that. I was actually hoping _you_ knew who would be stupid enough to out us like this!”

Severus didn’t, so he sat down to actually read the article. As far as the reporters could tell, it had been nothing more than senseless slaughter. The Muggles seemed to be chosen at random, a family of three living in the suburbia. There was a picture of the attacked home surrounded by red tape, a perfectly unassuming house amongst a cookie-cutter-identical row of houses. 

Three people dressed in black robes and with Death Eater masks had been seen leaving in the night by a neighbour who didn’t think about it until the next day. When the police stepped in they found a scene they could not make sense of. Aurors and Obliviators were called in only hours later.

The husband was Mr. Dursley, and why in the world did that name ring a bell of recognition? He was dead from no apparent cause, so the obvious answer was the Killing Curse. The wife was found in the kitchen, every single nerve ending shot from extended exposure to the Cruciatus. She had been strung up from the ceiling and bled dry, and her blood had been used to write a message on the hallway wall.

## YOU TOOK THE BOY WHO VANISHED

The couple’s son was nowhere to be found. He was presumed to have been taken.

“They think Harry Potter is alive?” Severus asked faintly, glad he was already sitting down. 

“Apparently. Do you know of any other Boy Who Vanished?” Lucius said amidst his pacing, “The theory is nothing new, it’s been floating around since the night the Dark Lord was killed. Some crackpot Magical Theorist swore to anyone who would listen that if a curse of that magnitude rebound, it would have to do so perfectly or not at all, and that Harry Potter must have survived it,” Lucius scoffed, “Nobody put any serious stock in it, of course. Someone that powerful as an infant would have been impossible to hide as he matured.”

Severus very carefully raised his Occlumency shields. “Why would they have thought a random Muggle family would know anything about it?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Lucius waved a hand as if to hurry him along, “Just read the rest of it.”

Steeling both his shields and his stomach, Severus did.

Apparently, the Death Eater’s rampage hadn’t stopped there. The next victim was Mr. Dursley’s sister, who lived out in the country. She had been similarly tortured and in the end killed, but that was where the story got convoluted.

One of the Death Eaters was also found dead, one of the Rowle brothers. But it wasn’t magic that killed him. The cause of death had been a bullet, shot in the middle of his forehead. He hadn’t had time to even be surprised before he was dead on the floor. In another room, a snapped wand had been found along with cut fingers, identification pending. The assailant was suspected to be a retired Muggle Colonel, who lived nearby and probably came to help his neighbour when her dogs raised an alarm.

He was nowhere to be found either.

The whole story painted a rather grim picture.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Severus muttered in dull horror and turned to the next page, “Why were they so adamant that these people had-”

Severus stopped. Stared. Blood rushed from his face when he saw another picture, unmoving and with names of the victims printed under it.

Like an unpleasant ghost of the past he did not want to think about, Petunia Evans was looking at Severus with a bland smile. 

Petunia Dursley, now. Or rather, not anymore.

“Severus? What is it?” Lucius asked when he noticed his friend’s expression.

“They weren’t random,” Severus managed to squeeze out, “I don’t suppose the name Evans means anything to you?”

Lucius had excellent memory for names, faces and the embarrassing details of someone’s career that could ruin their reputation. He stopped for a moment to rifle through his memory, searching for anyone who might have ever been named Evans.

“No, I don’t think so,” Lucius finally concluded, then turned a suspicious eye on Severus, “Why?”

“It was the maiden name of Lily Potter,” Severus carefully kept his voice as blank as possible, “She had an older sister, Petunia, who apparently married and became Dursley.”

Lucius connected the dots on his own. His eyes looked ready to fall out of his face. “They must have found out there were still living relatives. Severus… They took the boy. He is the right age, do you think-?”

“Not bloody likely,” Severus snorted and turned the Prophet around, “You know as well as I do what Potters look like. If the boy were one of them he wouldn’t be blond, and that’s just for a start.”

“It could be a glamour.”

“Cast by whom? The Muggles?”

“You really can’t think of a wizard who would want the Saviour of the Wizarding World hidden?” Lucius asked, almost frantic, “One who values blood of the family and is powerful enough to cast a lasting glamour? Who would want his toy soldier raised in quiet anonymity, away from the Wizarding World, until it was time to train him into a weapon?”

Whatever blood was left in Severus’ face drained away. “Lucius…”

“At this point you know Dumbledore better than I do,” the blond whirled around, “Can you really tell me this doesn’t sound like something he would do?”

Severus felt like he was going to get whiplash. It took him a moment to parse through what Lucius was saying and what was being asked of him. “I… I suppose it does. But I’m pretty sure Dumbledore would have hidden his tracks better if that was the case.”

“Sometimes hiding in plain sight is better than any ward we’ve invented yet,” Lucius started pacing again, “Now that you’ve pointed out the woman was related to Potter, it makes perfect sense!”

“How the hell does any of this mess make sense, Lucius? Please, _enlighten_ me.”

Lucius was too busy pacing to even notice the pun. “The night the Dark Lord died, Hagrid was the first on the scene, wasn’t he? He’s Dumbledore’s lackey, no two ways about it. If the boy had survived, and this is looking more likely by the second, Hagrid would have given him to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore would have used the rumours of his death and hidden Potter with his only remaining relatives. It wouldn’t exactly be hard to modify their memory to think it was their child, and nobody would think to look for him amongst Muggles.”

Severus’ back was starting to sweat, but his face was the perfect picture of disbelief. “Lucius, exactly ten minutes ago you thought it was impossible that Harry Potter was alive, now you’re telling me Dumbledore had him hidden away in the Muggle world this entire time? Are you even listening to yourself?”

Lucius abruptly stopped and pursed his lips in displeasure. “Alright, I admit it might be a bit far-fetched. But Rowle and the others thought the idea had merit, or they wouldn’t have risked everything to get the boy.”

“Rowle hasn’t had an original thought in his head since he took the Mark,” Severus told him incredulously, “Not to mention he ended up _dead,_ and we have no idea who was with him. The blood relation was probably just an excuse for Muggle-baiting that went too far.”

“You really think it’s impossible?” Lucius frowned, “That the boy survived?”

“There hasn’t been a record of anyone surviving the Killing Curse in all the centuries it has existed,” Severus reminded him, “Unless the boy was an Inferus before the Dark Lord even pointed his wand at him, the chances of him surviving it are nil. The Dark Lord probably died because the curse splintered.”

“You think the Dark Lord _miscast his signature spell?_ ” Lucius’ voice was fraught with disbelief. 

“You think that explanation is less likely than the Dark Lord casting the Killing Curse at an _infant,_ dying and leaving said infant alive?”

Lucius had no answer to that, and he was painfully aware of just how impossible those words sounded. “But if Potter is truly dead, why would Rowle and the others take the Dursley boy?”

“Maybe he’s Muggleborn.”

“If he was, they would have probably killed him with his parents.”

“Lily Evans managed to produce a child the Dark Lord decided was a threat to him even as a baby, which proved to be true,” Severus reminded him coldly, “And she was Muggleborn. Maybe they thought the same blood would come out in him.”

Lucius made a face that perfectly conveyed what he thought about the implications Severus just laid out. Then he thought about it some more and realised the even _worse_ implications of that statement and turned faintly green. 

“They wouldn’t,” he said firmly. 

“Really.” Severus drawled in response. “You are absolutely certain _that_ is the point where they would draw the line.”

Lucius turned pale again and sat down. As if on cue, the timer above the oven started flashing green. Right, he had scones in the oven, because Harry and-

It was Severus’ turn to go pale when he realised just who he had in the same house as Lucius Malfoy. He just barely schooled his expression in time and got up to dispel the timer.

“Stay there,” he told Lucius, “Try and calm down. Tea will help, and the scones are just finished.”

Lucius, thankfully, just nodded and relaxed in Severus’s armchair. The rules of hospitality dictated that Severus, as a host that offered tea, went to get up and make good on that offer. And Lucius, as a guest, was supposed to sit right where he was and wait for tea to be served. 

Severus pulled the scones out of the oven and set them aside to cool a bit. But because he really was in a hurry, he waved his wand to summon a silver platter and a few dishes. Butter went on a little plate and jam in little jars. Three butter knives next to three plates. Scones stacked into a pyramid shape. A couple teabags went into the teapot, doused with hot water and left to steep. Three teacups paired themselves to three saucers and three teaspoons. Sugar in a jar and milk in the milk dish. A perfectly proper arrangement.

Severus carefully levitated it all over to the coffee table and laid it out in a pleasing formation.

Lucius smirked, much more calm now that he could see the promise of tea on the horizon. “Not a single word spoken. You’re a show-off, Severus. I approve.”

“Yes, one might think you’ve known me for years now,” Severus didn’t roll his eyes, but his expression conveyed the same feeling anyway, “I’m going to get Herodion.”

“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t been on top of the staircase this entire time.”

Yes, Severus was aware he probably was, and just who was with him. That was precisely the reason he was going up to get him, before the brat got the idea to come down on his own with Alyssa following.

To the children’s credit, they weren’t on the top of the staircase. They were on the other side of the landing, their faces pressed to the bars that prevented little brats like them from falling to their deaths. It was also harder to be spotted in that position, and easier to hear the adult conversations going on in the living room. 

Unfortunately for them, Severus had grown up in the same house and already knew all the tricks. They didn’t even have time to get up before they were seen.

Severus quickly put a finger to his lips, telling them to stay quiet. He went up the stairs and waved them along to Harry’s room. Once the door was closed behind the three of them he cast _Muffliato._

“You need to stay here and not make a sound,” Severus told Alyssa before she could even open her mouth, “I assume Harry told you who that is down there?”

“Lucius Malfoy,” she said with her lips twisted in a moue of distaste, “Harry said he doesn’t like people without magic.”

Lucius didn’t like plenty of people _with_ magic, but the explanation was adequate for now. “Yes, and in the interest of avoiding a scene, you need to stay here and not make a sound.”

“Why?” she asked impetuously, “I’ll get in trouble?”

“No, _I_ will get in trouble,” Severus corrected her, “And in the light of recent events I would prefer to avoid adding fuel to that particular fire.”

Alyssa glared at Severus for all she was worth, which was quite a lot actually, but after nearly a minute she nodded sullenly and went to sit on Harry’s bed with her arms crossed. 

Severus figured that was as good as he was going to get. He took Harry by the hand and all but dragged him out the door. 

“We’ll save you some scones,” was all he said before he closed the door to Alyssa’s faint hiss of ‘you better!’

“There you are,” Lucius greeted them warmly when Harry and Severus finally came back to the living room, “I was starting to worry your uncle has decided to tan your hide for eavesdropping.”

“Of course not,” Harry sniffed, the perfect picture of a wrongly chastised child, “He merely boxed in my ears.”

Sometimes Harry did these things that made Severus puff up his chest with pride like a particularly fluffy owl, which he _did not_ do. Instead, he pretended to glare at Harry while Lucius chuckled and proceeded to pour them all tea.

“You do realise you weren’t supposed to hear that,” Lucius told Harry, once he’d taken a fortifying sip of tea and managed to collect his wits.

“That Harry Potter might be alive?” Harry asked with perfect innocence, “No Sir, I’ve heard nothing about it.”

Severus carefully sipped his tea, and looked sideways like the coatrack was the most interesting thing that could currently hold his attention. The look in Lucius’ eye clearly said he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Whatever. As long as his eyes didn’t hold that crazed glint of a newly minted conspiracy theorist anymore.

“Ah yes, but sensationalist stories aside, that is actually not what I came here to discuss,” Lucius sighed, “Three of our former associates, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination that they could be traced back to us.”

“They can’t do anything,” Severus protested, “Seeing as we _weren’t involved.”_

“Severus, don’t be naive. Do you really think we would actually need to do anything for them to convict us?” Lucius’ hand automatically gripped his left forearm.

Harry’s eyes widened. He knew Severus had the Mark, seeing as he couldn’t avoid rolling up his sleeves forever, but all he knew about it was that it was something Severus regretted having. He wondered if Harry knew just what those ‘tattoos’ actually meant. 

“We were acquitted by Dumbledore himself,” Severus reminded him, “It would take actual proof if they wanted to go against his word.”

“You know, one day you are actually going to have to tell me just how you managed to convince the old man to let us go,” Lucius said, “Dumbledore may be old but he’s no fool, yet within sixty minutes in the courtroom with him you were a free man, without even giving any names out.” Lucius raised one perfect eyebrow meaningfully. “I would dearly like to know how you managed such a lucrative deal.”

Severus started impassively back. It was hardly the first time Lucius had asked him that, and Severus knew it wouldn’t be the last. Lucius wanted to know what Severus had bartered away for the freedom of two Marked and high ranked Death Eaters. He knew it couldn’t have come cheap, but for all his snooping and interrogating, he had never found the price tag.

The closest thing Severus ever gave to an answer was: ‘Nothing I can’t live without.’

It was somehow both a truth and a lie. But Lucius didn’t need to know that.

“You are talking about that thing I’m not supposed to know about until I’m older, aren’t you?” Harry asked suspiciously, “Am I ‘older’ yet?”

Severus sighed. Why was every child he knew so precocious? “No, you’re not. Not that it matters much with how fond you are of eavesdropping.”

“Most times I don’t have to. You just forget that I’m here if I’m really quiet.”

Severus took a sip of his tea to avoid saying anything. Harry wasn’t wrong, though. Whenever he and Lucius got going everything else tended to fall to the wayside. And Harry could be perfectly unobtrusive if he wanted to. At the rate he was going, that boy was going to have enough blackmail to topple the Ministry before he even took his NEWTs.

“Severus,” Lucius said hesitantly, “If Harry Potter is indeed alive- Don’t give me that look, we have to consider that possibility as well,” Lucius cut Severus off before he could even lower his teacup, “Yes, if he is still alive… There is also the possibility that the other side of the rumour coin is true as well. And if that’s true, Draco and Herodion should be told. What it might mean for our future, and theirs.”

The other side of the coin was, of course, the Dark Lord’s ‘death’.

It was a truth generally accepted in the Wizarding society that the death of Harry Potter and Voldemort had been a single event of mutually assured destruction. Severus knew it was a lie, but he had gone to great lengths to ensure he was the only one who knew for certain.

But there was nothing stopping people from speculating. 

Dumbledore had his suspicions after meddling around Horace Slughorn’s mind. He had all but said in the early interviews that, perhaps, they hadn’t seen the last of Voldemort. There were very few Marked Death Eaters still walking around, but their unmarked associates knew that the Mark had only faded when it was supposed to _disappear._ There were several similar spells in recorded history, and by all accounts when the caster died they were only supposed to be left with a rather nasty burn.

That did not happen. The Mark was still there. It fuelled the rumours endlessly.

This blasted attack was going to be like adding hot oil to simmering embers. With the right incentive, the fire was going to get out of control _fast._

And no matter how thick Severus’ lies were, they were still flammable. 

“Told what?” Severus asked somewhat scathingly, “Our sordid past? You should know better than to stir up those ghosts.”

“They might not stay ghosts, Severus,” Lucius said, “If the Dark Lord returns-”

“I will not return to him,” Severus told him with such conviction Lucius nearly spilled his tea.

“How can you say that? Severus, we are _Marked._ If the Dark Lord returns the first thing he’s going to do is summon us, and anyone who doesn’t answer is done for!”

“And you think we would fare better under his command?” Severus spat, “Do you not remember the year of that blasted prophecy? We were sent to hunt _children,_ Lucius! And what do you think would have happened if our so-called Lord decided to expand the parameters? That all children born in July were a threat? What if he had decided on June for a good measure?”

Lucius’ face was once again perfectly bloodless so Severus let him digest that. Lucius glanced at Harry, who was clutching his cup like a shield, and with a full body twitch remembered that he was born in July as well, and Moira Prince had hidden him for as long as she was able, and paid for it with her life.

And had it really not been enough… Draco was born in June. Lucius had held him, still wet from birth, and cried in relief along with Narcissa that his son had not decided to be fashionably late.

“The man was _insane,_ Lucius,” Severus drove the point home, “You were there to see him deteriorating, you said so yourself. Can you really imagine he would be any better if he did find a way to return from the dead?”

Lucius said nothing.

“I don’t care if he comes back as the second coming of Jesus Christ,” Severus told him firmly, “I don’t care if I have to cut my arm off and escape with Herodion to Australia. I’ve worked too hard to be free of any masters, I am not going back to him.”

Lucius looked like he’d been slapped square on the mouth. His tea was dangerously close to tipping over and drenching his trousers.

“Severus…” Lucius began, then looked away as if pained, “If you truly mean that, you should not be telling me any of it. You know of the Dark Lord’s abilities; I doubt they would have diminished if he truly has found a way to conquer death.”

“Even if he has found a way to keep his soul alive, his body was turned to ash,” Severus reminded him, “Unless he comes back as some kind of malevolent spirit, getting a new one is nearly impossible.”

“‘Nearly’ is not good enough,” Lucius reminded him, his voice getting unsteady, “He was the master of Forgotten magics. Spells that haven’t been performed in centuries, outlawed ones. Don’t you remember the Inferi? He made enough of them to form an army, yet almost none of them had been found even to this day!” Lucius took a deep breath to try and regain some calm, “And… Bellatrix was certain he had the means to escape death.”

“Yes, I was under the impression that’s what he preferred to be called.”

“ _Dammit Severus, listen to me!_ ,” Lucius stood up so fast he knocked the teacup and the saucer to the floor, and the shattering sound was drowned out by Lucius’ cries, “Voldemort outright told Bellatrix and I that even in the unlikely event of his ‘disappearance’, we were to _‘expect his return’,_ ” Lucius looked on the verge of a panic attack as he said it, “He left us with two artefacts, one to Bellatrix and one to me. We were given-”

Whatever those artefacts were, Severus would not find out that day. Lucius’ words were interrupted at the worst possible moment by a Patronus, a great silver phoenix, that flew through the closed window and perched itself on the other end of the sofa.

“Severus,” the phoenix spoke with Dumbledore’s voice, “I trust you have read the news. I will come find you, we have much to discuss.” With that, it opened its wings again and took flight once more.

 _I will come find you, we have much to discuss._ Every time Dumbledore sent a message like that, it meant he would be popping in for a chat within five minutes.

Which meant Severus had five minutes to save the lives of everyone in this house.

“Upstairs,” he commanded as firmly as his voice would allow, “My room, both of you. Lock the door, and under no circumstance are you to open it until I come to get you.”

“Severus, what-”

“ _Now,_ ” Severus roared at Lucius. Harry, who was well familiar with his uncle’s Things-Just-Got-Serious voice, jumped up and grabbed Lucius by the hand and bodily dragged him upstairs. In their scrambling confusion, neither of them noticed the doors of Harry’s room quickly closing where they were open a crack.

Severus jumped into action immediately. He Vanished Lucius’ broken cup and saucer, did the same to the half-eaten scones and crumbs and the half-drunk tea, then all but ran up the stairs, but not to his room, which was thankfully closed and hopefully locked.

He poked his head into Harry’s room, immediately seeking Alyssa. “Hide,” he ordered in the exact same voice that sent Harry running, “Do not make a sound, and do not open this door under any circumstance. Stay here until I come get you. Understand?”

Alyssa was just as familiar with Severus’ Things-Just-Got-Serious voice as Harry. She turned pale but didn’t utter a sound as she nodded and scrambled to hide under the bed.

Severus closed the door and spelled it to lock itself. Then he all but flew down the stairs and straight for the house phone. He dialled Isobel’s number by heart, mentally counting the hours, the minutes, between the ending of her shift and when her train arrived at Cokeworth, and the fifteen minute walk from the station to Spinner’s End.

If she was fast, she should have gotten home ten minutes ago. She would not thank him for this, but she would play along better than Agnes.

Severus needed all the odds stacked in his favour. 

“Hello, Fisher house,” came the wonderful, melodious, blessed sound of Isobel’s voice.

“Isobel,” Severus greeted with audible relief, “I’m sorry to bother you fresh off your shift, but I need you to pick up Alyssa.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Just an unexpected guest,” Severus told her dismissively, “Unfortunately, unasked for, and not entirely pleasant-to-deal-with guest. So I would appreciate it if at least Alyssa was spared the visit.”

“I see,” Isobel said suspiciously, her tone making it painfully obvious she was going to wring the details of that conversation out of him at the first opportune moment, but also that she was willing to play along for now, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, see you soon,” Severus hung up. Next he had to yet again hide the evidence of a small child living in the house. Some traces were alright, because they went along with his cover story, but nothing that indicated permanency. Children’s books were alright, as was a stray toy behind the sofa cushion, but the refrigerator drawings and little shoes had to be hidden. 

Just in time as well, for only a second later came a knock on the door. 

Severus spared a moment to give quiet thanks to whoever invented Anti-Apparition wards, rose his Occlumency shields, and went to open the door.

Albus Dumbledore stood there in all of his garish glory, for once not wearing his grandfatherly smile. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t waste my breath on reminding you that this is a Muggle neighbourhood,” Severus drawled as he stepped aside to let him in, “You’re lucky nobody lives right next to me.”

“My apologies, Severus,” Dumbledore demurred. He looked oddly remorseful about something, and Severus knew damn well it wasn’t for showing up with barely any prior notice.

No, he had a feeling it had more to do with the copy of the Prophet Dumbledore had in his hands.

The old Headmaster walked the well-trodden path from the hall and into the living room, took a moment to blink at the tea and scone arrangement on the coffee table, then seemed to accept they were likely for him and took a seat on the sofa.

Severus took the armchair and retrieved the other copy of the Prophet.

“I assume you’re here because you realised the same thing I did,” Severus said mildly, letting Dumbledore guess just what it was.

“Petunia’s death,” Dumbledore nodded solemnly, “I’m afraid I find myself in an unusual situation where I have little more information than an average journalist.”

“I’m sorry to say you’ve come to the wrong place, then,” Severus told him, “I only found out about it just now. Though I have my theories about it, as I’m sure you do too.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded and took a sip of his tea. A flash of surprise went over his expression before he set the cup down cautiously, “I take it I’m not the guest you’ve been expecting.”

Oh. In his haste Severus had forgotten to warm the tea. Thankfully, he had an excuse ready. “Ah, no. I was expecting my neighbour. I’m babysitting her daughter until she gets home from work.”

Severus might as well have announced he had sprouted another head from his foot. Dumbledore sat there, frozen and staring at Severus as if he had just realised it was someone else before him, merely Polyjuiced into Severus Snape’s likeness. He looked like he was a second away from openly gaping.

Severus was reminded of McGonagall’s sputtering and had to hide a smile behind his teacup. Only it turned into a frown a second later, because the tea really had gotten cold. 

“Yes. But as you can see, I expected her to be here earlier,” Severus said, and right on cue there came a knock on the door.

Dumbledore looked very much like someone standing in front of an obviously booby-trapped gate who very much wanted to be on the other side of that gate but were fearing for their dignity if not their lives.

It wasn’t an inaccurate metaphor, considering that Severus’ plan unfortunately involved leaving Isobel alone in the same room as Dumbledore. Not for long, true, but long enough to start a conversation.

“She is a Muggle,” Severus said as he stood up, “So I would be grateful if you would transfigure your robes into something less conspicuous.”

Dumbledore nodded minutely, then looked into his teacup and discreetly started compiling a list of poisons whose taste could be hidden in cold tea.

Severus didn’t bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

When he opened the door, Isobel was standing there in fresh clothes but with multiple strands escaping her tight bun, exhaustion hiding in the lines of her face and covered by determination. She didn’t say anything, but a slightly raised eyebrow spelled everything out perfectly.

“My former Headmaster dropped in to see how I’m doing,” Severus said quietly and a tad sarcastically, which told Isobel _alllll_ she needed to know about the situation and her role in it.

Had Severus been a lesser man, he would have kissed her then and there.

Instead, he led her to the living room where, for perhaps the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore was wearing a grey three-piece tweed suit in a subdued grey colour. His hat was gone and his beard had been shortened along with his hair, leaving him looking like a perfectly respectable Headmaster of a posh boarding school. 

It was Severus’ turn to try and not gape like an idiot. 

“Hullo,” Isobel greeted with a polite smile that belied its sharpness, “And who might you be?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” he stood up and shook hands with Isobel, with no trace of awkwardness to indicate how unfamiliar the gesture was to him, “I was Severus’ Headmaster once upon a time. May I inquire the same?”

“Isobel Fisher,” she looked Dumbledore up and down and made no effort to be discreet about it, “Severus’ neighbour. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Ah, might it be too much to hope it was mostly good things?” Dumbledore smiled self-deprecatingly.

“Just mostly,” Isobel allowed.

Severus had a sinking feeling for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Alyssa’s sleeping upstairs, I’ll go get her,” Severus said and turned towards the staircase, “Do try not to slander me and my entire family tree while I’m gone.”

The words were sarcastic, and on the surface they seemed like a jab against them gossiping about the only person they had in common. But Isobel was smart, and she knew a lot of Severus’ history, far more than he’d actually verbally told her, and she got the real message loud and clear.

_Do not mention Harry._

Severus went upstairs leisurely, giving not a single hint of his urgency. He unlocked the door to Harry’s room, and made sure it was firmly closed before he turned to the bed. “You can come out now.”

Alyssa wiggled out from under the bed, dragging along a stray piece of yarn in her hair. Her face was still pale, but the look on her face was the mirror image of the one her mother wore when Severus had answered the door. 

Severus knelt down and took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me very carefully,” he told her quietly, even though he knew they wouldn’t be heard, “There is a wizard downstairs. He doesn’t know you know about magic. He doesn’t know about Harry. And he must not find out.”

Fear flashed in Alyssa’s eyes before it was captured and forged into steel. 

Severus removed the yarn clinging to her bangs. “Pretend you were asleep, and I just woke you up, alright? And whatever you do, do not look the man you see downstairs in the eye.”

“You are hiding Harry from that wizard,” Alyssa said unexpectedly, gravely, “Why? Why is he a danger to Harry?”

For a moment, Severus was struck speechless. Alyssa looked at him with those pale, pale blue eyes, not even a limbal ring to mark the border between the iris and the sclera. Those eyes gave the impression of looking into your soul and that if their owner wanted to they could recite every single one of your sins, weigh and measure them and pass judgement.

Severus knew she was a Muggle, so even as an adult she would never be able to do that. But for the first time in his life, that certainty abandoned him along with words.

“I-,” Severus swallowed his doubts, “I’ll explain the best I can later, but for now I need you to play along. Pretend you are just an ordinary child that just got woken up, and the man downstairs is just an ordinary visitor.”

Alyssa nodded and accepted those words of promise, and it was really marvellous how much trust you earn simply by keeping your word consistently.

Then, because she was at least as smart as her mother, she ran her fingers through her hair to mess it up as if she’s been turning in her sleep, bunched her shirt in her fists to crease it and rubbed her eyes to make them seem bleary. She even yawned for good measure.

“Good girl,” Severus smiled proudly, despite the peril of the situation, “And remember: no word of this to your mother.”

“I know,” Alyssa nodded, and Severus took her under her arms and lifted her up. She was very tall for a seven-year-old, but she hadn’t had time to fill in all the extra space with food, so she was still light enough to carry on his hip. Severus knew she wouldn’t remain as such for long.

And neither would Harry, but that was a melancholy to contemplate another day.

Isobel had taken a seat on the sofa, and was for all intent and purposes amiably chatting with Dumbledore about… knitting patterns? At least, that was the only context for needles, eyes and stitches Severus had that wouldn’t make anyone other than a veteran nurse run away screaming. So they were either talking about knitting, or Dumbledore had a stronger stomach than Severus gave him credit for. 

“Hi, mum,” Alyssa greeted sleepily, eyes half closed and her head resting on Severus’ shoulder.

“Oh, honey,” Isobel got up to accept her daughter from Severus. But she let her down a moment after, because even if Isobel was far stronger than she seemed she was still exhausted after nearly twelve hours at the hospital. Alyssa took her hand and leaned against her, and gave their visitor a look that held nothing but childish curiosity for the aberration in the familiar space.

Dumbledore smiled warmly, eyes twinkling full force, and gave a jaunty wave. Alyssa waved back on reflex, then raised her hand to her mouth to cover an ear-splitting yawn, disinviting any attempt at conversation.

“I see you’ve had quite an adventure at the zoo,” Isobel smiled fondly, “But I guess I’ll hear the details tomorrow. Don’t forget, the concert starts at noon, so be there before then.”

“Yes, I know, I somehow managed not to forget the last ten times you’ve reminded me,” Severus smiled as well, and he was pretty sure Dumbledore did not have to watch so intently. 

“Better I say something needlessly ten times than not say something that might be important,” Isobel told him pragmatically, “Either way, I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow. Good evening, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“Good evening, Ms. Fisher,” Dumbledore waved jauntily as Severus escorted them to the front door. 

“Thank you,” Severus whispered once they were over the doorstep. Outside the wards, yet probably safer considering what was inside them. 

Isobel’s expression turned conflicted, then tired. “Hang in there, love,” she gripped Severus’ shoulder as if to steady him, “No ordeal lasts forever.”

Severus put his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers in thanks.

_One down, two to go._

Severus closed the door and turned around.

“I seem to remember you were here about the triple homicide and a possible child abduction by Death Eaters?” he asked the moment it looked like Dumbledore was going to open his mouth.

For his part, Dumbledore looked like he had been presented with the impossible choice. To talk about the very important, and possibly extremely urgent matter and the whole Death Eater affair and the possible return of the Dark Lord, or finally getting some intel about his former student’s love life. 

Severus would have thought it wouldn’t be a tough decision, but from the look on Dumbledore’s face it clearly was.

Thankfully, common sense finally thought to bang on the doors of Dumbledore’s mind and remind him that the situation he’d _actually_ come here for was actually _urgent._

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore waved his wand to dispel the glamour over himself, revealing his violet robes once again, “I suppose it is too much to hope for that you would know what prompted this attack?”

“I daresay the reason was spelled out,” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“So you think it wasn’t a cover for something else,” Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought.

“No,” Severus said, then visibly hesitated. Dumbledore noticed.

“They took the boy,” Severus began, pretending to contemplate a theory, “Five years old. If they thought Harry Potter was alive, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine he was placed with his aunt.”

Severus let his words hang, to see Dumbledore’s face when he realised what Severus was insinuating. See if he thought Lucius’ theory had merit.

See if he took the misdirecting bait.

“And who would have placed him there.”

Dumbledore seemed surprised for a moment. Then he sighed. “You do not think much of me, do you Severus?”

Severus said nothing and showed no emotion. 

“It is true that I have hoped Harry Potter has survived that night,” Dumbledore said, “And I did have a certain reason that made it seem as a plausible theory. But… I’m afraid that all other evidence has proven the contrary.”

“Such as?” 

“As you said, I have not been able to find him, even though I have used every method within my means,” Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it around the teacup. It filled with steaming hot tea, “And my means are not few, as you know. Even so, I am not all-powerful, so I gave it up and waited to see if a magic far more ancient than mine would be able to tell.”

“And what did it tell you?” Severus asked, only curiosity colouring his voice. 

“There is a tower in Hogwarts,” Dumbledore began nonsensically, “Accessible only to its Headmaster. It houses two very, very powerful artefacts, created by the four founders and never quite replicated since. They are simply called the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. Upon the first instance of accidental magic of any child in the British Isles, or any that could claim its ancestry, it springs up and writes down their name.”

Severus forced himself not to panic. Dumbledore wasn’t finished yet, do not jump to any conclusions. Let him finish, then plan. Occlude, do not let anything show on your face or your mind.

“Harry Potter would have been five years old at the end of this month,” Dumbledore continued, “When most children exhibit their first signs of magic. And yet, the Quill has not written down his name.”

Severus blinked in confusion. That was all? That was what it took to convince Dumbledore that Harry Potter was dead after all?

“Yes, it seems like a strangely arbitrary magic to place my faith in, doesn’t it?” Dumbledore smiled sadly, “But it is fascinating, complicated magic. It took me years of study to find out how it works. You see, no matter how strong the wards are, how far away the child is, the Quill is nevertheless sensitive enough to feel their magic. But the Book is deceptively simple. Once the Quill has sensed the magic, the Book decides on the name. It reads not the name on the birth record, or the name the child is called, but the most intrinsic knowledge of self: who the child thinks they  _ are,  _ their full name they identify themselves with, that will be the name the Quill writes down,” the smile fell from Dumbledore’s face, “I have been told children as young as seven months are aware of their names, and even if his name was changed it would have been written down in some way, which has happened surprisingly more often than I thought throughout the book.”

Dumbledore sipped his tea. “So you see, if Harry Potter was out there, no matter how well hidden, it would have been proof of life. And as it has not come, I too have been forced to acknowledge the truth.”

Generally speaking, Severus did not believe in luck, mostly because it did not tend to favor him. But here he was, his lies safe from the magic he did not even think to defend against, simply because Harry did not think his name was Harry Potter. That ‘Harry’ was a shortened version of his  _ real _ name, and not the one which would be written. 

It was a good thing he was already sitting down.

“Ah, but that is not what you asked of me, is it?” Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, after adding an abominable amount of sugar, “You asked if I would have hidden him with his aunt and denied his existence. And the answer is: no. Perhaps I would have given him to Petunia, as I don’t think Harry had any other family left, and he would need someone who treated him as a child and not a hero. I would have hidden his location, of course, but not his survival, not least because that alone deserves to be celebrated,” Dumbledore swirled his tea, “And to think, if I hadn’t given Lily that book…”

“What book?” Severus asked, because that seemed like an important detail he had been missing from the bigger picture.

“Well, it hardly matters now,” Dumbledore dismissed his question, “I answered your question. Will you answer mine?”

Severus grimaced. He had a feeling he knew what Dumbledore was going to ask of him, but he had no way out of it. “It seems only fair.”

“Do you regret it?”

Severus startled. In his confusion he accidentally made eye contact with Dumbledore, but he felt no prodding in the second the connection lasted. He knew it would have been enough if he did not have his shields up.

“Regret what?” he asked, “You really need to be more specific.”

“Petunia’s death,” Dumbledore said. He was looking at Severus shrewdly, but he could not tell what the old man was aiming at.

Severus’ lips thinned in contemplation. In the end, he decided to tell the truth. “I suppose I do. Unpleasant as she was, Petunia did not deserve the end she got, nor the fate that will likely befall her son,” Severus blew out a gust of air, “On the other hand, I have nothing to regret. I had not known about it, and had no means to stop it. If I blamed myself for the things I couldn’t help, I would be a miserable bastard indeed.”

It was evident this was not the answer Dumbledore was expecting, but it didn’t seem to be a wrong one either. 

“Oh, Severus,” Dumbledore shook his head fondly, “It seems that, in this regard, your wisdom surpasses mine. Make no mistake my boy, knowing how to forgive yourself is a skill so few of us learn in our lifetimes.”

Severus wondered just when did the conversation spiral so far out of his control. He felt like he’d lost the thread of conversation the moment Isobel and Alyssa left. 

He supposed it was time to get it back on track.

“Alright,” Severus clasped his hands in contemplation, “Now that that’s settled… To the best of your knowledge, Harry Potter is definitely dead. So why did Rowle and whoever sent him to the Dursleys think he wasn’t?”

“As I said, that is what I’m trying to find out,” Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought, seamlessly switching topics, “Alastor allowed me to examine the scene myself, and a lot of things do not add up. The boy was in the house, that much we found out, yet they went after the other Ms. Dursley. Either they were deceived or what they really wanted wasn’t in the house after all, and they had to check the other bases.”

“Where they found out they’d bitten off more than they could chew,” Severus remarked, “One dead and the other missing a wand and fingers. Did they find out who did it? The Prophet only said it was a retired Colonel.”

“Fabrizio Orsini,” Dumbledore carefully enunciated the foreign syllables, “Officially, he was a member of the Queen’s Guard, retired some years ago.”

“And unofficially?”

Dumbledore didn’t answer. A tumultuous frown crossed his face. “Unofficially, if that particular branch of the Queen’s Guard is involved, we have bigger problems on our hands.”

Both of Severus’ eyebrows shot up at that. Bigger problems than Death Eaters surfacing and kidnapping children they may or may not think were Harry Potter? Severus quickly cast his mind back to think why exactly the Queen’s soldiers would pose a threat to them and came to the only possible conclusion.

“You mean they could compromise the Statute of Secrecy?” Severus asked. The highest levels of the Muggle government knew about the wizarding world, including the Queen, since the monarchy was still in place when the statute was put into law. 

In fact, Severus recalled from one of Lucius’ lectures that the wizarding population actually still paid their taxes to the royal family. That way the money could be converted between currencies as needed and distributed to the government institutions that relied on tax funding, including Hogwarts. It was, essentially, legal money laundering, and it was kept in place to minimise the exposure of the Wizarding world to the Muggle world. The public was too focused on the love affairs of the royal family to pay much attention to their shadier businesses, and that was the way everyone preferred it.

But slip-ups happened, and someone at some point must have instituted fail-safes.

“Amongst other things,” Dumbledore answered his previous question, “If worst comes to worst, I can go talk to Lizzie and smooth things out, but I would rather not do that if I do not know the whole story myself. I was her tutor in my youth, you see, and she would hold it over my head forever if I prove not to be all-knowing after all.”

It took Severus a few seconds to realise that by ‘Lizzie’, Dumbledore meant Queen Elisabeth II. 

Bleeding hell, no wonder Dumbledore had fingers in every pie ever baked.

“Unfortunately, it seems I have to cut my visit short,” Dumbledore stood up and straightened his robes, “I was hoping you would know something, but I suppose you run in different circles now,” Dumbledore turned to Severus, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “I would be happy to come visit again and tell you what I do find out.”

Translation: he was hoping to pick apart Severus’ life and possibly run into Isobel again, and he had just found a perfect excuse. Nosy old bastard, but it was also the easiest way for Severus to find out what happened as well, so he reluctantly nodded.

“But send an owl next time, like a civilised wizard,” Severus glared at him.

“Of course, of course,” Dumbledore said merrily and pulled out a stuffed puppy from his sleeve, “I imagine you need time to put the toys away. I’ve been sitting on this poor fellow the entire time.”

Severus’ lips thinned and blood rushed to his cheeks against his will. In response, Dumbledore twinkled even more.

“May I take a few?” Dumbledore pointed at the scones. Severus waved his hand in assent, so Dumbledore twirled his wand over the plate. Four scones floated up into the air, then a white kerchief materialised underneath them, enveloped them, and tied its edges into a bow. Dumbledore plucked his package from the air and put it away into his sleeve, which probably had extension charms on it.

“Thank you for the tea, Severus. I shall see you soon,” Dumbledore nodded and went for the Floo. Less than a minute later, he was off to the Ministry of Magic. 

Severus tilted his head back and rubbed his palms over his face, allowing his shields to drop with a sigh of relief. 

_Two down, one to go._

Severus took a moment to resign himself to his fate, then walked upstairs to his room.

He found Lucius and Harry sitting on his bed, with the tarot cards Severus forgot to put away. Harry was holding two of them in his hands carefully, and Severus realised Lucius had read him his birth cards.

Severus could see _Judgement_ and _The High Priestess_ , and consciously did not wonder what it would mean.

“He’s gone,” Severus told them.

“Good,” Lucius stood up, his bearing composed and his expression cold, “Then it is time I take my leave as well. Possibly permanently.”

Severus was taken aback. Lucius couldn’t possibly be serious. “Lucius…”

“No, Severus,” Lucius raised his hand to stop him, and did not look at him, “I cannot blame you for your choices, but you have made it clear they diverge from mine far too much. Further association with each other will lead to nothing good in the future.”

Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s it? Fourteen years of friendship, and you’re giving up _now?_ ”

“It wouldn’t be the first one, would it?” Lucius bit out, “I had known you must have done _something_ to acquire pardon, but I had not thought you had turned into Dumbledore’s _informant.”_ Lucius took a deep breath through his nose, obviously trying to keep his composure, “You cannot play for both sides, Severus, I had thought I’d taught you that lesson a long time ago. It is a shame that it was the one you had decided to forget, along with some bloody sense of _loyalty.”_

Severus swallowed compulsively and grit his teeth, trying desperately to keep his temper in check. How did everything manage to spiral out of his control _again_? “You talk to me about loyalty? Everything I did was to save our necks! Including yours!”

“And that is the reason I shall simply walk away and do nothing else,” Lucius stood straighter and finally looked at Severus. The disappointment in his eyes felt a hundred times worse than his anger ever could. “But make no mistake, from this day forward, you are stranger to me and mine, and on the day of reckoning we shall see if you are mine enemy.”

His words rang with finality.

Standing there, his fists clenched and his heart in his throat, Severus was sixteen again, feeling humiliated and channelling that feeling into anger, because anger was safer than showing weakness, wanting to lash out with words he knew would hurt the most to hide how much _he_ was hurting.

But a cut off cry brought him back, and Severus was not sixteen, not anymore, and he had a child looking at him with wide eyes that shone with fear. So Severus bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood, and forced the cutting words down his throat like a curse cast only halfway, so it burned his fingers rather than the man standing before him.

Severus was not sixteen, and Lucius was not Lily.

It was very hard and equally important to remember that.

“If that is what you wish,” Severus bit out, once more raising his shields, but not just the Occlumency ones. No, but also the ones that he had been building and strengthening since the first time his father hit him and his mother turned her eyes away, the ones that guarded not his mind but his heart, they rose and turned to stone and steel and diamond, and did not let anything in.

Or out.

“I will walk myself to the Floo,” Lucius nodded and walked past Severus, out of the room, out of the house, and out of their lives.

Severus stood there, clenching his fists so hard his nails were leaving indents in his palms, twenty-five and feeling like he was sixteen, and his heart was beating in his throat but he refused to let it out.

A tiny hand wrapped around his fist. 

Severus looked at Harry, small and vulnerable and sad, and tears were running down his cheeks and thank Merlin and God and Fates that his eyes were black.

Severus could not have handled it had they been green.

“Uncle Sev,” Harry’s voice wobbled with suppressed sobs, “He will come back, right? He will stop being mad and we’ll see him again.”

Severus wanted to lie to him, tell him ‘yes, this is just a bit of a spat, he will come back tomorrow’, but those words did not come either. 

“I don’t know,” he knelt down and drew Harry into a hug, “I don’t know.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck, his tiny fingers clutched at Severus’ hair like he was just a year old again, and he cried for yet another loss in his life, but the first he remembered.

It was Herodion Prince’s fifth birthday, and his first gift was heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehehehehehe, Dumbledore ships it.  
> And, as I've tried to show here, I'm in the 'Dumbledore didn't know Harry was abused' camp. From what I've picked up in the books I got the impression Dumbledore thought Petunia and her family were strict with him and emotionally distant, but considering the time Dumbledore was born and what we know of the Wizarding world and his own upbringing he probably thought that was _normal_ , and that the _Weasleys_ were the atypical family. He knew Harry wasn't happy with the Dursleys, but didn't get the impression it was anything more than that, and judged the blood protection more important than three months a year with them. 
> 
> Alright, you know the drill by now: something unclear, ask in the comments. Wanna yell at me, you know where the button is. Gimmie the theories, the worst ones you can think of, I wanna see what will cause the most tears. Muahahahahaha
> 
> Fun fact: Fabrizio Orsini is actually a canon character. Marge called him Colonel Fubster, but since nobody sane would name their son Fubster and Dursleys struck me as racist anyway, his name is Fabrizio. And for you Americans, yes, being Italian in England is a lot like being brown-skinned in America. I've had an exchange student who decided against going to England for precisely that reason, (even though we had to speak English anyway because my Italian is so bad it's embarrassing), so I'm not pulling this out of nowhere. 
> 
> Also, I'm almost at 70k and we're two thirds done with Severus' arc, so that means we're only 2/6 done. This was not meant to be OotP long but I was clearly not consulted. No, I'm just the author, why in the world would I be asked about the fic length?


	15. 1985: The Policy of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus has some hard talks with the only people he has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii! Okay, it's been a worryingly long time since the last update, but I'm still going at it!!! It's a little short since real life is hectic right now, and it will probably be August before things settle down. 
> 
> Betaed by the love of my life, [HaleyProtega282](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyProtega282/pseuds/HaleyProtega282). Without her this chapter would possibly not be here, and certainly not so soon.

For a week, everything was quiet.

Harry’s birthday was spent mourning rather than celebrating. Alyssa had hugged him like she was trying to choke the sadness out of him and she refused to let him go. Harry held onto her like he was afraid she was going to suddenly leave as well if he released her long enough. They sat together on the couch and watched the Live Aid concert without really seeing it.

Isobel, as promised, made tea and poured nearly the entire pot down Severus’ throat, cup by cup, and gently prodded about the events that transpired after she left.

The words poured out of his mouth like a dam had been broken. Severus fought with every word to keep his voice steady, somehow succeeded more often than not. He told her how his past kept chasing him, both sides of it, and when they clashed he was inevitably left with one side broken off. The one friend he still had, who had practically made him into the man he was, the only one who not only gave a damn but was willing to help Severus become something more than a miserable product of horrible circumstances.

Isobel listened. She listened and poured tea, occasionally prompted when Severus got a little lost.

When Severus was done he felt like he’d run a marathon. The honeyed tea was probably the only thing that had saved his throat from his outpouring of grief, but it couldn’t save him now from the awkward silence of yet again falling apart in Isobel’s kitchen. 

“Oh, Severus,” Isobel sighed when she realised he was done with his tale, “I am so sorry this happened to you. But no matter what you’re thinking right now, Lucius’ decision to leave wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it-”

“No,” Isobel’s voice was firm, “It was not your fault. You left that life behind and made no secret of it. If he is the one committed to chasing his so-called glory days, it is his own fault. You have worked so hard to pull yourself up from your past. You’ve done the right thing in not letting him drag you back.”

“He’s afraid,” Severus defended him, “Afraid that it will catch up with him no matter what, and he thinks it would be better to return on his own terms than be dragged.”

“Then that is his own decision,” Isobel’s voice didn’t change, “The one thing I can agree with him on. Our choices are what determine who we are, and sometimes you have to let people make the wrong choice because you can’t change their minds. You cannot save those who don’t wish to be saved, Severus.”

Severus was uncomfortably reminded of the conversation he had with Dumbledore, all those years ago when the old Headmaster tried to recruit him. 

_I have no wish to be saved,_ Severus had lied to him. He did wish to be saved, desperately, but he could not stomach Dumbledore being the one to do it.

“Or perhaps he just didn’t want me, or my help,” Severus said quietly, mostly to his cup.

“Maybe,” Isobel allowed, “I’m not going to lie and say that’s not also a possible reason. And maybe, if he wants to walk to his own damnation and pretend it is the same thing as salvation, he didn’t want you following him. Nobody can save everyone, and I think he is aware of it.”

“But I don’t care about everyone,” Severus’ voice cracked again, _dammit,_ “He was my _friend._ I have few enough of those. I owe him so much; I can’t even begin listing it all. He’s Harry’s Godfather, for- Christ’s sake! I should be able to do that much!”

“But you can’t,” Isobel, in contrast, was still perfectly calm, “Our own helplessness is often the most galling. But sometimes, people leave for reasons you cannot comprehend, no matter how much you try. Sometimes, your paths in life just diverge, and you can only hurt yourself if you keep holding on,” Isobel looked away, and her sigh carried so much weight with it, “Sometimes you have no choice but to let them leave, even if it means you end up eight months pregnant and sitting in front of a divorce lawyer by yourself.”

 _Oh,_ Severus thought numbly. Isobel never talked about it.

“I had thought we were doing so well,” Isobel continued, “I was aware that there was a possibility he might go away to some faraway place and return in a casket, but I thought we would have years together yet. But one day he started talking about a war being fought that was kept out of the news. That it was only a matter of time before he was deployed,” Isobel shook her head, “I could tell he wasn’t telling me something. But no matter how much I pleaded with him to tell me what was going on, he kept saying he couldn’t tell me. Until one day he stopped talking to me altogether.”

Isobel paused, somewhere far away. Severus waited for her to continue, wondering if it meant it was his turn to pour the tea. 

“And then one day, he sat down with me and handed me divorce papers. Out of the blue, or so it seemed. He looked so tired and so defeated, and told me he was going away and it would be better to leave a clean slate. Just like that, he decided that whatever it was that he was fighting for, I wasn’t worth as much.”

“You are worth more than he could comprehend,” Severus told her with steel in his voice. It teased a small smile from Isobel.

“Thank you for that, Severus,” she told him, “But the point is… Sometimes people decide to leave, and if you fight against them to make them stay, it will only end in misery for everyone involved. Sometimes, letting go hurts the least.”

Severus didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly couldn’t tell her what he suspected about her husband, about who he was and how he ended up, if he did not return to her after the war. If it was even the truth he had told Isobel.

“So, in the end, the only thing you can do is have tea, and help others through the pain,” she smiled at Severus, and it was as sad as it was kind, “It is a storm you have to weather, and have faith you will come out on the other side without sinking.”

“Are you sure I won’t just pull you down?” Severus blurted out the question that had been eating at him for so long, he did not even know when it had first formed. “You’ve been saving me this entire time; doesn’t it get hard?”

Isobel looked shocked at that. “Severus, I can tell you with complete honesty that it does not. Not to the point that I can’t handle. But you are labouring under one very big misconception.”

“And that is?” Severus asked, looking down.

“You walked the path of your recovery on your own two feet,” Isobel told him, “ _You_ had saved _yourself._ You _wanted_ to change, and you knew what you wanted to change into. I pointed you in the right direction of your goal, and offered a shoulder to lean on, but at no point was I either pushing or dragging you to it. That’s the biggest difference between you and your friend, Severus, and that is exactly what I meant when I said you can’t save those who do not want to be saved. Change of self isn’t something that can be forced, and it isn’t something that can be done for you.”

Isobel reached across the table and took his hands in hers, giving him that same support she had offered when they met, the one she never stopped giving.

“And it is certainly not a one-way street,” she continued, “You have helped me as much as I have helped you. Do not ever underestimate how valuable your friendship is, Severus. Alyssa looks up to you as much as Harry does. I trust you with my daughter more than I trust anyone else other than my own mother, and that is not a small thing. You’ve done so much Severus.”

Shit, Severus’ throat was tight with suppressed sobs again like he hadn’t fallen apart enough for today.

“But is it enough?” he asked quietly, desperately.

Isobel hugged him long and hard when he said that, and it was all Severus could do not to cry on her shoulder.

“For the right people, it is. Never tear yourself apart for the people for whom it isn’t.”

* * *

After a weekend of tears, Monday morning dawned in numb acceptance for Severus and cautious hope that Lucius would change his mind given enough time for Harry. Despite everything that happened that Friday, life went on. Alyssa came by for breakfast and dragged Harry away the moment their plates were empty. Severus sat there in the too quiet kitchen and allowed himself to drift for a while, lamenting the loss of yet another friend in his life. But Isobel was right. He couldn’t keep people who did not wish to stay.

He thought he learned that lesson long ago. He did not think he would have to learn it again.

He sat there in silence, for a moment listening to the nothingness only the emptiness of a house on the abandoned street could have. Then he got up and washed the dishes. It seemed like the thing to do when you were out of tears and feelings.

He brewed only the standard potions for the Apothecary, the ones he could do in his sleep, and did not read the delivered newspaper, Muggle or magical, letting them collect dust in the corner of the hallway. 

He didn’t read the ones that came the day after. Or the ones after that. 

He didn’t read anything for a while.

One morning, in the early August, Harry tripped and fell into the river, and Alyssa nearly followed trying to pull him out. They returned home dripping and smelling godawful, so Severus sent Alyssa to change her shirt and start a bath and levitated Harry into the bathroom so he wouldn’t track scum and polluted water through the house. 

“Did you at least catch some frogs while you were at it?” Severus asked Harry as he rubbed shampoo into his hair, “I could use some for potions testing.”

“Sorry,” Harry shrugged, his eyes tightly shut so he wouldn’t get foam in them.

“We can get some next time,” Alyssa suggested, sitting atop the toilet lid with a pile of fresh clothes for Harry on her lap. She was wearing one of Severus’ shirts, resized to fit her better. It still looked like a tunic on her.

“Better not, or if you do at least use a net.”

“Okay,” Alyssa said. She was kicking her feet idly, careful not to hit the bathtub after Severus reprimanded her. She couldn’t swing her legs far, since the bathtub and the toilet were barely far apart enough that you could pass between them. Severus could have sat on the lid and still shampooed Harry’s hair had Alyssa not already taken a seat.

The bathroom was abysmally small, just barely big enough for the three of them to be in at the same time, and only if one of them was in the tub, thought at least that was decently sized. It was one of the first things Severus started working on, when he brought Harry to his childhood home and decided to stay there because he had nowhere else to go.

When Severus was young, the house had looked much different, but the most obvious difference was that one bathroom. It used to have only the sink and the toilet, and a small round mirror hanging from the nail in the wall which his father used to shave by. The tub they used was a round, metal thing a grown man couldn’t possibly fit into comfortably, and especially not one of Tobias and Severus’ height. When it was washing day, Tobias would drag it into the bathroom and fill it with cold water while Eileen boiled water on the stove. She and Severus would carry the pots into the bathroom and pour them into the tub, mixing the water to a more or less comfortable temperature. 

It was a long and arduous process, and Severus had generally found it was easier to wipe himself down with a wet towel, especially if nobody wanted to change the water when it was his turn. It left his hair predictably unkempt and greasy in his youth, which was yet another thing that set him apart from his highborn Slytherin classmates.

Now, that tub sat leaning against the wall, by the bathroom door under the staircase, out of sight but still there in case Severus needed metal to transfigure into something else. 

The bathroom itself now had an actual bathtub that had a drain connected to the pipes, an electric boiler and a detachable showerhead, a big mirror fixed above the sink and an undamaged toilet lid, because for the first time in his life Severus had had enough money and freedom to do magic to make his home actually comfortable. 

But no matter how many changes he made, there was no hiding that it was a poor man’s house, in a street where no one but factory workers lived, trying to eke out a living. Most of the houses on the street were abandoned, now that the factory had closed, waiting for another factory to open in the skeleton of the old one and a new generation of workers to move in and repeat the cycle all over again.

Severus would have gladly abandoned the house and its horrid memories at the first opportunity, had it not been for two things: the wards and the Fishers. 

The wards he’d painted in the attic on All Saints’ Day, half mad with grief and holding a baby that by all rights shouldn’t have survived. But he had and Severus had poured all the blood he could spare onto the attic boards in a desperate hope he could keep that child breathing.

By all rights, it shouldn’t have worked. The ritual involved three very different magics just barely balancing each other out. The Dark Lord had been interested in the esoteric practices that involved combining two or more diametrically opposite energies, but even one such as he, who shied away from nothing, admitted that it was only possible in _theory._ In practice, the precision required to actually balance them out was quite likely beyond the reach of human capabilities.

Had he painted a single sigil wrong, or even a millimetre out of order, it would likely have killed him. But it hadn’t, and Severus had no idea how it was actually working, nor did he trust his skills enough to try and replicate it. Neither did he dare to try and pick it apart until he was sure Harry was safe from anyone looking for him.

The other reason was the three generations of Fisher women living on the same street. Isobel was supporting her mother and daughter on the salary of an NHS nurse, she hadn’t moved to Spinner’s End just because she wanted to be closer to Agnes. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon either, and even if Severus had a choice it was likely that he would have stayed close to them. 

If Severus had been sure enough in his ability to replicate the wards, he would have suggested to Isobel they pool their resources and move into a bigger house. They were raising each other’s children already, they were practically living together as it was. Very few things would have changed if they did it under the same roof. 

That suggestion would have likely opened an entirely new can of worms, since living together was what people usually did when they were married. But Severus had no interest in that and as far as he knew neither did Isobel. People would talk, but Severus didn’t give a toss what a bunch of busybodies thought, as long as he and Isobel were on the same page. 

Harry and Alyssa would have loved it, at least. It was a nice thought, and now that Lucius had washed his hands of Severus perhaps it merited some more contemplation. If they lived together, even if they weren’t married, Severus could register Isobel as MAM, Muggle Aware of Magic, and Obliviators wouldn’t be allowed to touch any of them no matter how much they knew.

It really was a lovely thought. 

“Severus?” Alyssa poked him in the thigh with her foot just as he was rinsing out Harry’s hair, “Is now the right time to remind you that you promised to explain why we were hiding from that old wizard?”

On the other hand, this was another reason why it would have to remain as just a thought. 

“Yeah,” Harry turned around and leaned his elbows on the edge of the tub, “You said you would explain when I was older. I’m five now. That’s like, halfway to grownup. And it’s about me anyway, I should know.”

Severus would have liked to argue that five was barely halfway from being a fetus, but semantics aside, Harry had a point. Severus had been shuffling him out of sight and preferably out of house every time Dumbledore came to visit for the last four years, to the point Harry already started packing his bag every time he saw an owl delivering the characteristic cream parchment with green letters.

Severus was lying to him every time he opened his mouth. He tried to balance it out by telling the truths that wouldn’t damn him for knowing them.

Plus, now that August had come, Harry actually _was_ five.

“How much do you know about Albus Dumbledore?”

Harry tilted his head in thought. “He’s the Headmaster of Hogwarts, right? And I think… Lucius said he’s on the Wizengamot?”

“Someone better translate that for me later,” Alyssa grumbled.

“Hogwarts is the school for wizards, where they can learn how to use their magic,” Severus told her, “The majority of the magical population attend it for at least five years, usually seven. And those that do, tend to go work for the Ministry of Magic, which runs the Wizarding world. As you can imagine, the Headmaster has a lot of influence over those that used to be his pupils.”

Harry and Alyssa didn’t look like they thought it was a significant sort of influence, so Severus continued. “And Wizengamot is the court of law in the Wizarding world. It oversees all the departments in the Ministry, which in turn make decisions in their respective fields. Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock on it, meaning his influence over the decision-making is also great. Do you understand so far?”

Harry started nodding, paused, then waved his hand in a so-so motion.

“I think I do,” Alyssa nodded hesitantly, “Dumbledore is in charge of the Ministry like Bambi’s father was in charge of the forest, right?”

“That’s…” Severus considered it for a moment, “Not inaccurate. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but yes, it is similar.”

“But Bambi’s dad was the good guy,” Harry protested, “And it was his responsibility to take care of the creatures of the forest. Does that mean Dumbledore isn’t doing a good job?”

“On the contrary,” Severus sighed, “He’s certainly doing a better job than most of his predecessors. Those that held the job before him,” Severus clarified, “But it also means he has to do what he thinks is right, and oftentimes there are people who disagree with him.”

“Like?” Harry asked.

“...Remember what I told you about Death Eaters?” Severus asked mildly. Both Harry and Alyssa’s eyes shot down to his left arm, where a rolled-up sleeve exposed the Dark Mark for them to see. “To you, they are just stories. But they were real people who did terrible things. Things you can’t even imagine simply because you’ve never seen such evil in your life.”

“But-” Alyssa looked worried and confused, “But didn’t you say you used to be one of them?”

Severus sighed. He got up from the edge of the tub and pulled out a stool from under the sink. He sat on it with his elbows on his knees and thought how to explain his horrid past to a pair of children.

“You know how you feel when you two fight?” he asked them, “When you are just so mad at each other you want to scream and hit and cry, all at the same time, and we have to separate you so you wouldn’t hurt each other?”

Harry and Alyssa guiltily looked at each other, then nodded.

“When I was sixteen, I was feeling like that all the time,” Severus admitted, carefully keeping his voice even, “Every day, every hour, I was angry at the world, at the people around me and myself. Hogwarts was my only home at the time, and in a year I would have to leave it, but I had nowhere else to go. Lucius told me I could join the Death Eaters’ cause like he did, and I would have people to fall back on and a target to vent my anger out on.”

“Did you do horrible things too?” Harry asked plaintively, half of his face hidden in the bathwater.

“Yes,” Severus told him, “I did a lot of things then that I regret now. And when I was twenty, one of my friends went missing, and another was being targeted. Slowly, I realised how many people I hurt in my anger, and I wanted out of it.”

Severus paused to look at Harry and Alyssa. They were looking at him with wide eyes, but with no fear or disgust. It relieved Severus, that even if they knew what he actually was they didn’t hate him. 

Not yet at least.

“Dumbledore was the Dark Lord’s biggest enemy, and the only one he feared,” Severus continued, “So I went to him, and asked for his help. He agreed on the condition that I spied for him.”

“Like James Bond?” Harry asked excitedly and Severus couldn’t help but crack a smile at that.

“No, not quite like James Bond,” Severus told him, “It meant that I would continue what I’ve been doing but report back to him.”

Alyssa looked incredulous at that. “That doesn’t make any sense! I thought you said you wanted to be _away_ from them!”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, “But no matter where I went, with this on my arm,” he pointed at the Dark Mark, “I wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. It’s not just a tattoo, Alyssa. It’s also a summoning sigil. The only way out was to disband the whole group.”

Only then did fear enter Alyssa’s eyes, pointed at Severus’ forearm. “Does it hurt?” she asked before Severus could even start worrying.

“No, not anymore,” Severus told her, which didn’t reassure her like he intended to.

“But back to the point,” Severus continued uncomfortably, “Harry, you know I am technically your cousin.”

“Once removed, yeah,” Harry nodded.

“That means that if I wanted you to live with me, I had to formally adopt you, which is a long and hard process and if Lucius hadn’t pulled a lot of strings, it wouldn’t have happened so fast. Maybe not at all, and you wouldn’t be living with me right now.”

Harry and Alyssa looked completely horrified for an entirely new reason. “What does that mean?” Alyssa asked, “Who would Harry live with if not you?”

“We’ll get to that,” Severus assured her, “When your mother died, I was your closest living relative, so you were delivered to me by default. But I still had to inform the Ministry that I had a child living with me who was not my own. And if the people at the Ministry thought I was... _unsuited_ to raising a child, they have the power to take you away from me and place you with someone else.”

Harry went whiter than the bubble foam, and Alyssa soon followed. “But- But that didn’t happen, right?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No, it didn’t,” Severus nodded, “Because I became a spy, I was pardoned for my involvement with the Death Eaters. It helped that no official record states just _what_ I did with the Death Eaters, just that I used to run in the same circles.”

“But you said Dumbledore knows,” Alyssa whispered, so pale she looked ready to pass out, “Because you went to him for help, and if he thought you weren’t good enough for Harry-”

“He would tell the Ministry,” Harry caught on, “And they would take me away.”

“It’s a possibility,” Severus sighed, “One I would rather not test. It’s one of the reasons why I chose to leave your surname ‘Prince’. It is an old, Pureblood name. Only those that knew my mother would know to tie it back to me.”

Harry didn’t seem to be listening. He looked on the verge of tears, actually, as he looked at Severus. “But why!? You are good _now,_ isn’t that the most important?”

“It’s not that simple, Harry,” Severus told him as he grabbed a bath towel, “Nobody in their right mind would give a child to a convicted felon. If they can’t find a single other close relative in Britain you’d probably-,” Severus stopped himself, “Well, you’d still probably go to the Malfoys. They are listed as your Godparents and no matter how mad Lucius is at me he wouldn’t turn you away.”

“But I don’t want to go to Lucius!” Harry shrieked, “I wanna stay here!”

“I know, Harry,” Severus took him under his armpits and pulled him out of the tub, then wrapped the towel around him, “I know.”

“It’s not fair!” Harry threw his arms around Severus’ neck, “It’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, Harry,” Severus reminded him gently, “That’s why I never told Dumbledore you’re living with me.”

“And if he does find out?” Alyssa asked woodenly, “You said he’s a good guy. Why would he do something like that?”

“Because he would think it’s what’s best for Harry,” Severus explained. He kept trying to dry Harry off but it was a little hard when Harry insisted on clinging to him. “Unfortunately, sometimes the people who hurt you the most are the ones who were trying to do right by you in the first place.”

Harry’s arms tightened around Severus. Alyssa’s fingers were nearly white around Harry’s clothes. 

“We have to make sure he never finds out,” Alyssa said with the hardness that seemed unsuited to her age.

If only it were that easy. 

Severus gave up on trying to dry Harry off and just picked him up, towel and all. Alyssa followed them from the bathroom and up the stairs. It was slow going as Severus couldn’t actually see the stairs past Harry’s head, but he had traversed them enough in his lifetime not to trip even over the annoying eighth stair that was just a centimetre higher than the rest yet somehow always managed to catch you unawares when you were in a hurry.

Severus set Harry on the bed and tried to gently detach him from himself. “Harry, look at me for a moment.”

Harry reluctantly lifted his head from Severus’ shoulder but didn’t actually let go. His eyes were glassy and a little red, but no tears had been shed yet.

“No matter what happens, if Dumbledore finds out and does everything in his power to take you away, I am not going to let you go that easily,” Severus told him, “My power is not inconsiderable. And I meant what I said that running away to Australia was a viable option if I was ordered to hand you off to anyone. I’m not letting anyone take you away against your will, no matter who they are.”

“Promise?” Harry asked timidly. 

“If you were older I’d swear you the Unbreakable Vow,” Severus promised, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tears finally started falling down Harry’s face as he threw his arms around Severus. A moment later another pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist. Severus hugged Harry with one arm, heedless of how the boy’s wet curls soaked his clothes, and with the other pet Alyssa’s head. They held on like the strength of their arms was their only hope of staying together, like all the words of prophesied doom would come true if they let go.

They did not let go for a long time.

But time pressed forward with no regards to the whims of humanity, so they finally had to separate from each other no matter how little they wished to. Severus threw their dirty clothes in the washing machine and started making lunch. In an effort to lift their spirits at least a little, he sat at the table with them and prepared a meal with magic like he was conducting an orchestra. Harry and Alyssa promptly started singing some cheery tune from Disney’s Snow White. 

Things didn’t get better immediately. There was still worry, there was still fear. But there was also the sense that, maybe, if they stuck together, they would get through to the other side. That was all that mattered. 

For now, there was magic, and there was singing.

* * *

The letter came early one day, over breakfast. Alyssa was with them, as usual, helping Harry and Severus compile a list of school supplies. Harry was finally starting Primary in September and Alyssa was over not just the moon, but every single celestial body in the sky that Harry would be going to school with her from now on. While Severus was looking over the list of workbooks and art supplies, she was writing down all the little knick-knacks that were of utmost importance for making friends in class. Harry was nodding with such solemnity you would have thought they were making a war map instead of a list of stickers and toys Harry would supposedly need.

They were as adorable as they were ridiculous, but Severus didn’t dare look anything but equally serious at their planning. It was a big step at this point in Harry’s life, and at least he was looking forward to it. Harry could already read and write relatively well, something Severus had insisted on, but there were other things school had to teach him that couldn’t be taught at home. 

Socialisation with other children, for a start. How to interact with adults in a position of authority over him. Learning how to read general body language, how to turn strangers into allies, networking, all the things he would need once he was on his own in a boarding school and Severus could no longer be there for him all the time. 

As much as he found the idea distasteful, it was better Harry establish himself amongst his peers as James Potter had instead of the way Severus did. Harry would need all the advantages he could get, especially now that Draco wasn’t likely to offer his aid. Severus had faith that Harry had inherited enough of Lily’s decency to offset Potter’s less desirable characteristics. 

Perhaps there was something to be said for nurture over nature as well, Severus thought wryly as he watched Harry and Alyssa argue over which pencil case would be better. It mostly escalated to an intense match of Harry saying ‘green’ and Alyssa answering with ‘blue’, both of them trying to say it faster than their opponent.

So of course their good mood had to be interrupted by a barn owl pecking at the kitchen window. 

Severus got up to let it in. Seeing as it was Monday he thought it was probably from Sellick, bringing him the list of potions he needed for the apothecary. But he’d barely given the owl a treat when he spotted the looping green handwriting on the envelope.

“Harry, Alyssa,” Severus called them and waved the letter as an explanation.

“Do we have to go to my house?” Alyssa asked with a sulky look at the mess on the kitchen table, “We haven’t finished the list yet.”

“You can go up to Harry’s room, but only if you lock the door,” Severus acquiesced, “Make sure to take everything with you.”

They didn’t even argue, just collected the various papers and markers in their arms and trooped up the stairs like soldiers retreating from an oncoming enemy. Severus’ lips thinned at the sight, the comparison hitting a bit too close to the truth.

They made a few more trips, taking with them all the stray toys and books that lay scattered around the living room and the kitchen. Harry made one last scrambling dash down the hallway to snatch their shoes, gave Severus a quick hug, and hurried up the stairs.

Well. His house certainly looked a lot cleaner than it did ten minutes ago, if nothing else. Silver linings, and all that.

Severus cast the last few concealing spells on the fridge drawings, and set about making tea. He’d just poured the hot water into the teapot when there came a knock on the door.

Severus went to open the door, then had to stop and stare in horror.

Albus Dumbledore stood before Severus’ door, for once actually looking like a century-old human should. His clothes were black, reminiscent of a funeral shroud, his hair and beard braided out of the way. Gone were the garish hats, the liveliness and the twinkling eyes. Before Severus stood an old man who was feeling the weight of every single one of his years.

“What happened?” Severus asked, horrified beyond words. Dumbledore hadn’t looked this bad in the midst of a war with Voldemort. Severus was afraid he was going to perish right in the middle of his hall, and that would be catastrophic to even contemplate, much less explain later.

“I have some bad news,” Dumbledore said quietly.

“How bad?” Severus asked hesitantly and immediately wished he hadn’t when Dumbledore sighed in defeat.

“Depends on which ones do you want first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
> ***evil laughter***  
>  Cliffhanger! Hey, I have to keep you coming back somehow.
> 
> Oh, nearly forgot. Petition to start calling J. Trolling She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I knew I was already going to have to address a plethora of issues she left this fandom with, I literally have a list, and now she comes out with THIS and expands my list by another three fucking feet. Let me be absolutely fucking clear, in this house TERFS are _not welcome_. We're giving her the Lovecraft business: love your works but if someone took a dump on your grave you absolutely deserved it.


End file.
